


The Angel Next Door

by dreamofflight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, High School, M/M, Monsters, Underage - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-20 11:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 40,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamofflight/pseuds/dreamofflight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, this is my first attempt at writing a full out STORY, rather than just a little one shot. Wrote this bit in a hurry, just to get it written so I wouldn’t forget it, so it’s unbeta’d…please be gentle <3</p><p>What if Dean had met Castiel earlier? Much, much earlier.</p><p>Dean meets Castiel Novak when they’re both 4 years old, but doesn’t see the boy again until he’s 18, and in his final year of High School. Castiel had always been different, and while Dean had loved that his friend had been able to talk to the stars and sing bird song, other people found his developing abilities terrifying. What will Dean do now, having to acknowledge now that what he remembered seeing from his childhood was real- and his old best friend was in actuality a supernatural being?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**_It all started with a butterfly._** Well, actually, it started when his Mother and Father got together and decided that a bundle of joy was the perfect thing to complicate yet fulfill their lives- but for Dean, it really all started with a butterfly. He was still mastering running at the age of 4, so it wasn’t a surprise that while chasing a sunny yellow butterfly across the front lawn and onto the driveway, Dean’s small foot managed to trip on the edge of the cement; and with a thud and an ‘OOF’, he went sprawling onto his stomach, sitting up from his fall with scraped up knees and palms. His Mother, Mary, gasped from across the yard, and hurried over as quickly and carefully as a woman almost 8 months pregnant could. Before she could get to Dean’s side though, the blonde boy was covered in a small shadow, and the tears that had been threatening to spill down his cheeks stopped in their tracks when he looked up into eyes the color of the late summer sky.

Standing in front of Dean was a pale boy with unruly dark thick hair, brilliant blue eyes, and a shirt a color that Dean would later remember specifically as ‘salmon’. The boy stared down at Dean for a moment, and the two toddlers blinked at one another, before finally the boy reached into his pocket, and with a flourish, pulled out a Scooby Doo band-aid, presenting it to Dean with a shy smile.

By then Mary was at Dean’s side, and she chuckled when she saw what the little boy was offering her klutzy son, leaning over to gently place a hand on the back of Dean’s blonde head.

“Well, honey…what do we say?” Mary cajoled, trying to break Dean out of his trance, as he continued to stare at the dark haired boy without saying a word- actions so thoroughly un-Dean-like that she was concerned he had actually sustained a head injury.

Dean blinked and looked up at his Mother, then flushed and smiled sheepishly, looking back over at the boy. He smiled grew a bit and took the band-aid, voice coming out strong and impish.

“Thank you.”

The boy flushed as well, clasping his hands behind his back and rocking back and forth on velcro fastening shoes.

“You’re welcome,” he whispered, then stood still and stared at Dean for another moment before speaking again, “….my name is Castiel,” the boy said, waiting for a response with what Mary could only describe as a look of apprehension.

Dean wrinkled his nose and laughed, the sound breaking the relative silence that had filled in once Castiel had shut his mouth again. The sound startled the boy, but he smiled back, a little less hesitantly this time.

“Cas-teal?” he asked incredulously.

“Cas-Tea-EL.” the other boy pronounced, emphasizing the syllables and speaking slowly.

“OH….Well…My name’s Dean….n’I’m gonna call YOU Cas, cuz Cas-teal is too stuffy…,” Dean spouted as he stood up, Scooby Doo band-aid applied to his knee cap. Mary rolled her eyes and stood back up, hand gently caressing her rounded belly as her gaze was caught by movement on the next door neighbor’s porch; a woman about her age waved, sitting in a rocking chair and holding up a glass of lemonade in offering to Mary. Dean’s Mother sighed and nodded, grateful for refreshment in the blistering summer heat, and wandered over to join who she assumed was Castiel’s Mother or guardian.

Dean watched his Mom go, then turned back to Cas and whispered, conspiratorially,

“….’sides, easier to say Cas….n’I think I wanna be able to say m’best friend’s name.”

Castiel blinked for a moment, eyes wide with surprise at the sudden proclamation from the other boy, before he grinned, and Dean couldn’t help but grin back, his body tingling with happiness at having a new friend.

“…’kay,” said Cas, and that was that.

That one incident was the start of an eight month whirl wind friendship, with Dean and Castiel at each other’s sides as much as possible (in other words, as much as their Mothers let them). Castiel ate at Dean’s house almost every night, and Dean could only be found for lunch with Castiel, in the warm sunny kitchen his own Mother, Clara, kept. They played together, watched TV together, and got into trouble together (it was almost always Dean’s fault, Castiel was the tag-a-long).

The boys spent their months together making forts out of blankets and tables and pillows, eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on the back porch with glasses of milk, and guessing what the cloud shapes were while they laid on their backs in Cas’ backyard. Dean led the way on their adventures, trekking down to the nearby creek that bordered the backyards of their houses. It was there that Castiel first showed Dean a ‘neat trick’; how Castiel could summon birds with a thought, make flowers bloom with a touch, or bring a ladybug that was dead on its back back to life. Dean found it all fascinating, but Castiel told him that it was a secret, that no one could know- his parents had warned him that if people found out, he would be taken away from them, put into a circus sideshow.

So Dean kept his best friend’s secret, but every chance they get, the two boys snuck off to see what else Cas could do. Soon they discovered that Castiel could hear the stars at night, and they spoke to him in voices that sounded ‘like angels’, according to Cas. Dean was jealous, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t ever do the things that Castiel could do.

“It’s okay Dean, you do lots of neat things,” Cas reassured his best friend. Dean frowned.

“Like what?”

“Well…you’re brave and strong…and you take care of me, right? You’re a good friend.”

Dean thought for a moment, and then grinned at his friend, realizing that Cas was right. He was good at helping people, and taking care of them when they weren’t feeling good. Dean was a good friend and that was something to be proud of.

When Sam, Dean’s little brother, was born, Cas was by Dean’s side when Dean was let into the delivery room. The two four year olds sat together in an armchair beside Mary, and together they held Sam for the first time, two pairs of eyes shock wide with wonder as they both stared down at the squirming bundle that was beyond precious.

The month after that Cas spent a lot of time in the new nursery, playing and coloring on scrap paper, while Dean stared at his brother in his crib, whispering secrets that neither would remember a decade later, but were nonetheless important in the moment.

The two boys spent that Fourth of July together on a blanket, staring up into the sky as bottle rockets went off in the neighborhood around them, exploding into a million pin points of light and color, showering down like falling stars afterward. Both boys stared up at the sky with mouths open in awe, grinning at one another in between explosions of light. Cas leaned in then, and at the age of 4 years and a half years old, Dean Winchester had his first kiss. It tasted like hotdogs and root beer, and was over as soon as it had begun, chaste and quick. Castiel flushed, then laughed and ran off, over to his parents, who were handing out sparklers to the kids of the neighborhood. Dean stared off into nowhere for a moment, stunned into silence, before he jumped up and ran after his best friend, joining in on the fun. The memory would keep him warm for years afterward, remembering dancing around with sparklers, chasing Cas and giggling, writing their names in the night sky, so when they blinked they saw fading trails of light.

Sammy was around six months old when the fire happened. Dean would never forget that night.

 ** _13 years later,_** at the age of 18, Dean still woke up panting some nights; the nightmares so real that he could smell the burning wood, feel the smoke stinging his eyes, hear Sammy’s cries ringing in his ears, and his Dad’s command of ‘Go Dean, now!’ the only thing that had made his little legs move, carrying his brother outside to safety.

That was the last night he saw his best friend.

Cas ran to his side and held him while he trembled, numb as he watched his house burn to the ground, the only words that came to his mouth words his Dad had no answer for…’Where’s Mommy?’

John had moved them away after that, starting in on what would end up being an endless hunt for the thing that had killed Sam and Dean’s Mother, the yellow eyed demon. Dean spent his childhood growing up a soldier, learning to hunt and kill alongside his Father, always remembering to take care of his brother, that protecting Sammy came above anything else.

Late at night though, Dean would sometimes wonder where his friend was, would pick up the phone at cafes when John wasn’t looking, and dial his friend’s number, only to hang up on the second ring. What would he say? Would Castiel even answer? Did he even live there anymore?

Dean’s last memory of the other boy was of having to be ripped away from Cas the morning after the fire, the wood still smoldering and ash covering the car’s surface. They’d clung to one another, somehow knowing that this would be the last time they’d ever see the other; Dean had felt something inside his chest clench and harden as he’d looked out the rear view window of his Dad’s ‘67 Chevy Impala, and seen little Castiel running down the sidewalk after the car, sobbing and screaming out Dean’s name.

Dean didn’t like to think about that memory. He’d rather remember the months before the fire, spending countless hours playing hide and go seek, eating his first slice of pie that Castiel’s Mom made for them from berries they’d picked. He’d rather think about the last carefree months of his life and his last real friend, other than his brother.

After turning 18 and celebrating it with the eradication of a nest of vampires, John surprised both boys by suggesting they move back to the town that Sam had been born in for a little while, to let Dean finish out his last few months of his Senior Year in one place. Sam was more than eager to live in a real house, with his own bedroom to decorate and live in, rather than one duffel bag for all his belongings, and a shared motel room for all three of them like the last few years had brought.

“This’ll be good for all of us boys…besides…there’s this job I need to take care of, and I might be gone a little while. Figure it’ll give you boys a chance to have a stable place to call home while I’m away.”

Dean stayed silent, but Sam groaned from the backseat, which immediately set John off.

“Got something to say Sam?” John said, tone even and calm like it always was when he’s pissed. Dean flinched, grimacing and looking out the window as he prepared to tune them both out, knowing he was in for at least an hour of bickering if Sam had anything to say about it. For a kid who hadn’t yet even turned 14, Sam thought himself quite the adult.

An hour later, almost to the minute, silence came over the car, and Dean breathed a sigh of relief, just in time for John to chime out, “We’re here.”

‘Here’ turned out to be a slightly run down two story house that looked, at max, 1,500 square feet. It had a tiny front yard with a small plum tree, scraggly shrubs around the front of the house, and a peeling paint job. It looked like heaven.

Sam and Dean tripped over themselves getting out of the car and into the front door, each teen running to claim a room for himself. Dean managed to get the larger of the two bedrooms that wasn’t the master, yelling ‘SUCK IT SAMMY!’ as he shoved his little brother out of his new room, and slammed the door shut.

Dean flopped down on the naked mattress on the floor, coughing at the dust that rose up, but then grinning to himself, hands linked behind his head as he looked around the dingy bedroom.

Home.

They had a home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edited: 5/9/2013 for tenses and grammar


	2. Chapter 2

With what meager belongings the Winchesters carried with them, it only took them a few hours to unpack and get their separate spaces set up that night. The rest of the night was spent eating pizza that John had gone and brought home- the kind that wasn’t baked in the store for you but that you had to bake yourself. Sam bitch faced at having to cook a pizza himself, but Dean just smiled and preheated the oven, ignoring Sam’s whining about being hungry and wanting to eat it now. They had an oven. They had a fridge and a washer and dryer that may not even work, but they had those things now, and Dean had never been so excited to see a dirty sink in his life because it meant that at least they had a  _real_  kitchen to cook in. Maybe Sam would get it later.

The brothers spent that night playing poker with their old man, soaking up the attention that was rarely bestowed upon them when they weren’t suffering from one injury or another from a hunt gone wrong. By midnight both boys were exhausted, so John sent them to bed and cleaned up the empty pizza box, napkins and paper plates himself.

Tomorrow was another day, and the boys would need a good night’s sleep if they were going to jump back into the chaotic world that was High School in the Midwest.

He left a wad of cash on the kitchen counter, along with hand written instructions for his eldest son, knowing that he could trust Dean to take care of Sam. With a sad smile on his lips, John Winchester left the keys to the Impala on top of the note, and then went out the side door to the front, where his old hunting buddy Gordon was waiting for him in a rust red pickup truck.

It was 2am when John left the boys in his rear view mirror, and 2:30 when Dean finally stepped away from the front window, where he’d been standing, watching his Father leave once again. He went back to bed, but spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, so by the time Sammy came downstairs at 7am, Dean was already showered and dressed, with a box of donuts half demolished on the kitchen counter just waiting for his bean pole little brother.

“You got 15 minutes Sammy, then I’m leavin’….Gotta get us both registered before class at 8…”

Sam grabbed a cinnamon roll and scarfed it down while he ran back to his room and threw clean clothes on, knowing that Dean wasn’t kidding about leaving in 15- he’d make Sam run to catch the Impala if he had to, or was just feeling especially dickish that morning.

~

The ride into the school was uneventful, Dean of course dominating the radio, “Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole…bitch,”, and Sam scowling out the window. Dean thought that maybe it was just that time of the month for his little brother, but luckily for them both, didn’t bother pointing that out while driving.

The office of the school was near the front, staffed by a pleasant looking plump woman in a cream cardigan that did nothing to hide the monstrous purple paisley shirt beneath it.

“What can I do for you, boys?” she said cheerfully, obviously unaware that it was 7:30 in the morning. Dean smiled and leaned on the counter, the charm practically oozing from him like a switch had been hit. Sam, of course, rolled his eyes and sat back, letting his older brother handle the nonsense they went through at every high school they went to register at.

“M’name’s Dean Winchester, and this here is my brother Sam. We’re new to town, and my Dad told me to come and register us for school today.”

“Oh! Well, welcome Dean,” she paused and peered around Dean at his sulking little brother, before smiling warmly, “Sam….but, I’m sorry boys..without your guardian here to sign paperwork, I can’t get you boys schedules.”

Dean knew that was coming, and was ready with a winning smile, clicking his tongue against his teeth.

“Ah…see, um,” his eyes quickly flashed to a name plate on her desk, “Martha…,” Dean smiled, and the woman almost melted, instantly relaxing under the teenager’s warm grin.

“Martha, my Dad left me with all the paperwork from our last school, all signed by him and our last principal. Our transcripts are complete, so, it shouldn’t be more than a couple strokes of the keys on your keyboard there to set us up with classes-…and then when my Dad- his name’s John by the way, gets back from his business trip, he’ll be able to sign all the official stuff.”

Martha pursed her lips, not liking the way Dean was suggesting to bend the rules. Dean panicked momentarily, his heart rate speeding up just slightly when he realized he might not be able to get them into classes without his Dad there, and who knew when John would get back from the hunt. He’d be okay just finding a job somewhere, but Sam? Sam would pitch a royal bitch fit if he was kept out of the classroom.

Dean leaned on the chest high counter, smiling so his dimples showed, and reached out to touch the faux gold and jewel encrusted broach on Martha’s cardigan that had obviously seen better days.

“That’s a lovely piece of jewelry, Martha…I bet a lucky man gave that to you, didn’t he?”

Martha blushed and tittered, saying ‘oh my,’ and chuckling up at Dean.

“Well, yes,..he’s…a suitor.”

“Now Martha, I think that he’s more than that- look at that blush on your cheeks!”

They shared a laugh and Dean knew he had her disarmed, all he had to do is push a bit more…

“…So, like I was sayin’….if I could just get a schedule for myself and my little brother, it would mean the world t’me…I’d owe you one, and I’m pretty sure my Dad would be grateful as well…,” he finished it off with the slightest head tilt, looking up at Martha through the thick fringe of his eyelashes, and Dean knew it was all over when she pressed her lips together for a moment, then sighed and waved her hand, as if to shoo Dean away.

“Just gimme five minutes Dean, and I’ll have you boys your schedules, alright?”

Dean grinned ear to ear, rapping his knuckles on the counter.

“You’re a peach Martha!”

“Oh you,- go sit down, trouble maker.”

“You got it, Marty,” he teased with a wink, and left the chuckling registrar to her work.

Five minutes later, on the dot, Dean and Sam walked out of the office, each with a slip of paper in their hand with a printed schedule on it. By now it was almost 8, and the hallways were filled with students bustling past, weaving in and out or shuffling along with their heads in a book. Sam waved goodbye to Dean as he made his way off to his first class, Algebra 2, and Dean found himself feeling unsure for the second time today as he stood alone in the hallway. He watched people brush past him, feeling suddenly like every pair of eyes was turning to stare at him.

The eldest Winchester brother took a deep breath, his chest puffing out slightly, and turned around to walk back the direction he came from, in search of his first period classroom- only to run smack into a shorter boy, sending the other teen sprawling onto the ground, books and papers flying out of his grasp. The kid hit the ground hard. Dean winced at the sound of the kid’s head smacking into the ground, instantly kneeling to help the other up, when he heard it.

Jeers. Snickering. Whistles and laughs. People around him were gathering quickly in a circle to take in the sight of the boy and the newcomer, both on the ground now, notebooks dotting the floor with red and blue, pencils snapping underfoot.

“Watch where you’re going freak,” one boy in a letterman jacket spit out, and Dean frowned as he looked up, for a split second thinking that the cocky jock was speaking to him, and wondering just how mad his Dad would be if he got suspended for knocking someone out on his first day. But the jock wasn’t looking at him- he was looking at the boy Dean had knocked over.

Someone else spoke up, the word ‘loser’ all Dean heard before another person spoke, and another, the whole crowd getting in on it now.

_“Freak.”_

_“LOSER!”_

_“Alien boy!”_

“Klutzy moron, isn’t he?”

_“Why don’t you go back where you came from huh?!”_

Dean frowned harder, wondering what the hell he’d just got himself into, when the kid he’d knocked over finally moves, and the crowd instantly quiets as he looked up and glared at Dean.

The first thought through Dean’s mind when he looked at the kid in front of him is ‘eyes the color of the summer sky’. The second is that the kid was fucking gorgeous, despite the look of pure fury on his face. Dean blinked and then smileed an awkward smile, leaning forward and offering the kid his hand to help the other up.

“Hey, uh, sorry ‘bout that…guess I don’t know my own strength, huh?”

The kid’s upper lip peeled back in what looked remarkably like a snarl, minus the accompanying sound, and Dean felt like he’d been doused with ice cold water- eyes that beautiful shouldn’t be that cold. They shouldn’t hold that much anger.

“Going to pick on the freak too, new kid?” the boy grit out, and the voice went straight to Dean’s stomach, heating a pool of fire there and making his guts churn. Again, someone that gorgeous and feminine, with a pair of plush, chapped looking lips and crazy touseled dark hair….shouldn’t have a voice like velvet over gravel. It just wasn’t fair, wasn’t right.

“…Uh, no?” Dean arched a brow at the kid, not getting what the hell was going on. Why would he pick on someone he didn’t even know? Where was the logic in that?

The boy shook his head and pushed Dean’s hand away, sitting up completely to kneel and start to gather his books and papers. By now most of the crowd had dissipated, realizing that there wasn’t going to be a fight, and that the late bell was going to ring any-

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGG!

Moment. Dammit, late on his first day, fantastic Dean, really, stellar work, he thought to himself, and stood up quickly. Dean walked around the rapidly emptying hallway, stooping now and then to pick up papers and notebooks, broken pencils and a calculator. He turned back around only to find himself face to face with the angry kid once more, and let out a startled laugh, shutting his eyes for a moment before looking down at the other kid- who was really only a handful of inches shorter than him.

“Jesus, you tryin’ t’make it a habit of being right behind me?” he teased, then held out the other kids’ books and papers for him.

The other boy just stared at the items for a moment, before taking them slowly, almost as if he was afraid Dean was going to rip them back out of his hands, or drop them on purpose, any second. The books clasped tight against his chest, the boy finally looked up, eyes like the summer sky no longer carrying anger, but still heavier than they ought to be for someone so beautiful.

“….Thank you….” the boy said, his voice soft and low, surprise plain on his face as his eyes searched Dean’s own. Dean blinked and then shrugged, smiling slightly and shouldering his backpack again.

“No biggie…really.”

“No, really…thank you…I-….I’m sorry I snapped at you before,” the boy said with a grimace, looking down at his scuffed black chucks. Dean watched the kid, how awkwardly he held himself, shoulders curled in like he was protecting himself from the entire world. If the kid stood up straight he’d be almost as tall as Dean himself, though not nearly as muscular. The boy had a wiry body type...something that Dean found more attractive than he probably should. Dean chuckled, and the boy’s eyes snapped up, wide with fear for a split second before Dean shook his head.

“Dude, m’not laughing at you…..It’s okay, really. I don’t know what all that was back there, with the name calling and the freak business,” the kid flinched at the word freak, and Dean made a mental note not to use it again around him, “but that’s not how I treat people, okay?…”

The boy stared at Dean for a moment longer, almost judging him by his words, his face silent and still, before he presses his lips together and nods

“Okay…oh..um, I think you dropped this…,” the boy said, and handed Dean his schedule back- which Dean didn’t even realize he’d dropped.

“OH! Dude! You saved me, I would have been screwed without this…,” he laughed and took it from the other guy, their fingers brushing over one another, and sending a jolt of electricity up Dean’s arm. His eyes widened and he looked up from his hand to the other boy- who felt it too if the look of shock on his face was anything to go by. Dean licked his lips and swallowed hard, then smiled tentatively.

“Look, uh….I think we might have gotten off on the wrong foot?…How ‘bout we start over?” the boy nodded and Dean grinned, then stuck out his hand for the other to shake.

“M’name’s Dean Winchester…nice to meet you.”

The other boy did a double take, and Dean would have laughed but for the look of utter shock on the kid’s suddenly even more pale face.

“….Dean?”

“Uh…yeah?”

“Dean…Winchester?”

Dean blinked then frowned slightly.

“Look, I don’t know what you’ve heard, or think y’know about me-”

“…Dean,” the boy said again, and then Dean found himself with an armful of lean teenage boy, papers and books dropped to the floor as the other flung himself at Dean and wrapped his arms around Dean’s shoulders, hanging on like Dean was a life line, and the kid was drowning.

“WOAH! Dude..what-…come on this is not-” Dean sputtered, stumbling back, hands flailing as he tried to figure out how to get the apparent limpet off of him. The boy pulled back, and there were tears in his eyes, and that’s when Dean realized that the other kid must be absolutely crazy, a total nutter, because what the FUCK else could explain-

“Dean…It’s Castiel….Castiel Novak….I’m….I’m Cas.”

Dean’s thought process ground to a halt, stopping on a dime at the other boy’s whispered words, and all he can do is try and breathe again.

There’s a long moment of silence where all the two boys did was stare at one another, blue eyes searching green with layers upon layers of hope, and green searching blue with rapidly disappearing disbelief.

“Cas….?” Dean finally choked out around the lump in his throat. The slender boy nodded, and the smile that lit up his face made Dean actually choke, on a laugh this time, before he wrapped his arms around the other’s, no.. _Cas’_ waist, and picked him up as Cas laughed as well, clinging to Dean even tighter now. Dean set Cas down a moment later, gaping at him still, and Cas couldn’t seem to stop laughing and smiling and blushing. Neither could stop touching the other, hands on wrists and arms, fingers brushing over cheeks and wiping away tears, because neither of them was crying- nope, not at all.

“I can’t- _JESUS,_ Cas! I can’t believe it’s you man!”

“Dean, you have no idea- god, _where have you been!_ I haven’t seen you since-”

“…the night of the fire- I know, and god, I’m so sorry dude, I wanted to call you-”

“I didn’t have your number! You moved and there was no forwarding address, and then my Mom said-”

“I tried calling man, so many times! But I just couldn’t, I was scared you wouldn’t…”

“I missed you so much, Dean.”

“….I missed you too, Cas….”

They stared at each other for a moment, the hallway quiet as they stood inches from one another, almost 14 years after they’d last seen one another. All that time and distance, all the memories that had faded come rushing back, and they’re suddenly four years old again, holding hands and grinning at one another as they hold sparklers on the fourth of July, the smell of fireworks and barbeque in the air.

“AHEM.”

They’re pulled from their reverie by the clearing of a throat at the end of the hallway- the Vice Principal arched a brow at the pair and then pointed to her watch.

“You’re late boys, get caught up later alright?”

“Sorry Ms. Hudson.”

“Sorry,” Dean repeated with a smile, then quickly helped Cas gather his belongings.

“What lunch do you have?”

“First,” Cas whispered as they both headed toward their classrooms. They came to a stairwell that Cas had to take to go to his class, and Dean grabbed his hand, squeezing with a smile.

“Then I’ll find you then, okay?”

Cas paused for a moment, then smiled and squeezed back.

“Okay…”

Dean watched Cas as he took the stairs two at a time, disappearing around the corner and leaving Dean alone in the hallway, his heart in his throat, and his memories swirling in his head.

He raced to his classroom and was thankful that his teacher took his smile and his excuse of being new as genuine, because Dean was having a hard time focusing on anything other than the fact that his world seemed to be coming together in ways he’d never imagined it would.

Cas.

Dean soared through his classes, his head in daydreams, going over and over the smile, the look of shock on Cas’ face when he’d realized who Dean was. Dean had a home again, after 14 years without one.

And after 14 years…he had his best friend again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one is so short!

Sam ended up being the one that Dean ran into first in the crowded cafeteria at lunch, grabbing his little brother by the shoulders with both hands and just letting loose. Dean babbled about Cas and how they hadn’t seen each other since Sammy was a baby, but here he was and Dean couldn’t believe it but _everything was going to be good again!_

Sam stared up at his brother like maybe Dean had been hit on the head with a heavy object, or possibly abducted and this idiot in front of him, practically giggling with excitement, was a clone or an alien replacement. Dean eventually caught on that Sam had just been staring at him with raised eyebrow and moderate bitch face for the past five minutes, and he sighed and hung his head for a second, before standing up straight again.

“Sam. I just ran into my best friend from when I was four years old. Act a _little_ happier for me man, c’mon!”

Sam blinked then schooled his face into a straight expression, before pasting on a fake smile and saying _“Yay!”_ in the most sarcastic tone ever.

No one could blame Dean for smacking the little shit upside the head for that, now could they?

Dean didn’t really care though, because in that moment he spotted who he’d been waiting for, coming into the cafeteria, brown lunch bag in hand, and an utterly terrified expression on his face as he looked around the bustling cafeteria.

“Later Sammy,” Dean said even as he was quickly walking off toward Castiel, leaving his brother gaping and sputtering _‘But, Dean-‘_ behind him.

Dean had more important things to think about than Sam’s bitching him out right now- like decking the jock who had just tripped his best friend after Castel had spotted him, and with a grin on his face, started walking across the cafeteria toward Dean.

 ** _“HEY!”_** Dean roared, glaring at the brown haired guy who was snickering as Castiel carefully picked himself up off the dirty cafeteria floor, after the football player had stuck his giant foot out to trip him. Cas snapped his gaze to Dean’s face, blanching as he realized that Dean had actually just yelled at the guy who’d just tripped him. The guy who just happened to be the second biggest linebacker on the varsity team, known for bench pressing 280 pounds and then having enough stamina to fuck half the cheerleaders unconscious in the same afternoon. Cas reached out for his friend’s arm, tugging on Dean’s canvas jacket as he shook his head.

“It’s not worth it Dean, come on…let’s just go,” Castiel urged, voice strained as his vision flickered from Dean to the guy and back again.

The jock arched a bow at the new kid, who was, stupidly, glaring daggers at him.

“What? New kid got a crush on the freak already? _Jesus_ , man, at least have some standards if you’re going to _fag_ it up on your first day.”

…So….that was the line that started the fight.

It ended with Dean on top of the kid, punching his too perfect romanesque nose until it crunched, then squelched, his own knuckles cut and bleeding from breaking the homophobic bully’s nose.

Dean was sent home with a two week long suspension, and the only reason he wasn’t expelled was because half of the cafeteria had spoken up on his behalf, stating that Dean had been provoked, and that the jock had gotten physical with Dean’s friend first. All the nerds, band geeks, drama students and mathletes were just grateful to have someone who would stick up for them…or, better yet, someone even lower on the social ladder than they were.

Castiel…was bottom rung. He was a freak, a loser, an abomination- in every sense of the word. Freshman year he’d been caught by a teacher making out with another boy in the janitor’s closet- and that had been the start of the gay bashing. The comments about him being a freak of nature had begun even earlier than that, in fourth grade when he was on a field trip, and someone had wished it would stop raining- and Castiel had said _‘Okay’_ and shut his eyes…and it had- instantly.

Power scared people. And fear made them stupid. And stupidity led to narrow minded actions, which is how Castiel ended up his Senior year, with only two people brave enough to mark themselves as targets for being the ‘Freak’s’ friend. Ash and Gabriel were two misfits much like himself; Ash, the ‘genius redneck’, and Gabriel, a self-proclaimed pansexual love god…in actuality a romantic virgin who was saving himself for true love.

Dean learned all of this as he drove across town toward their new home, Cas in the front seat, Sam pouting in the back, upset he’d had to go home early just because Dean was a _‘Stupid hotheaded JERK’_.

“Shut it bitch, just be grateful I even gave you a ride home! It’s 10 miles, Sammy, you wouldn’t have made it home before dark,” Dean said, glaring at his baby brother in the rear view mirror.

 **“SO?!”** Sam snapped, and folded his arms over his chest to glare out the window some more, muttering under his breath about ‘if Dad was here’.

Dean sighed and shot Cas an apologetic look. The other boy just smiled and shook his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and Dean felt his heart pick up the pace right along with his baby, foot on the accelerator, speeding them on home.

“So, you have these things happen around you,…weird, coincidence filled shit, and people just  _assume_ you’re to blame?”

Dean scoffed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes as he guided the Impala up onto the curb and then down the long gravel driveway to the house that John had rented. It was set back away from the street enough that it felt almost like a private getaway, in the middle of the city.

“…Dean…you don’t understand, I’m saying that I’m somehow _causing_ this stuff to happen!” Castiel said, gesturing with his hands and sighing.

Dean snorted and arched a brow, looking over at Cas, even as red flags were popping up all over in his mind.

“Yeah, sure, …and faeries exist.”

Castiel sighed again and turned his head glares at him, and Dean grined, but held his hands up in mock surrender.

“ _Dude_ , I’m just saying…this all seems highly suspicious. I remember us pretending you could do stuff when we were kids….doesn’t make any of it _real_ Cas,” Dean said as he turned the car off and climbed out, backpack slung over his shoulder.

The trio made their way inside, Sam immediately heading up to his room to do his homework- it was only the end of his first day in the school, and he was already the favorite of half of his teachers. Probably had something to do with paying attention in class. The door slammed upstairs and Dean sighed, reaching into the fridge to pull out two cans of coke. He handed one to Castiel, but the other boy barely noticed it, staring at the floor instead.

“Dean….why are there three bags of salt by your fridge?”

Dean turned around away from the sink where he’d been busy sipping the foam off his fizzing coke. His eyes went wide, and then he smiled and let out an awkward laugh, scratching the back of his head with his free hand.

“Just like salt, y’know…….n’it’s good for driveways,…when there’s frost.” Dean shrugged and smiled again, hoping Castiel would believe it.

Castiel blinked at him, then just nodded, one eyebrow raised in disbelief- but he didn’t say anything, which was one of his qualities Dean was coming to love after only being around the guy for a few hours now. Castiel didn’t question him when he knew Dean was lying about something- he just let it slide. Dean had a feeling it was going to make his life a lot easier, not having to explain the weird…’stuff’ around their house to his new/old friend.

Cas shook his head and smiled a little half smile, walking over to the old, faded white kitchen table, the paint peeling back on the rounded edge to reveal layers beneath- pepto bismal pink, strained peas green, butter yellow…Dean would never understand why people would want to put paint over a perfectly good wooden surface. He set his bag down on the chair across from Castiel and the pair settle in next to one another, each pulling out their homework from their bags.

It should be strange, Dean thought, how easily they’d fallen into being friends again. They hadn’t seen one another for almost fourteen years…and yet…less than two hours in each other’s presence, and they were both so comfortable that neither paused when they went to speak, neither hesitated to tell a joke for fear of ridicule, and Dean couldn’t imagine the last time he’d felt as proud of himself as the minute Castiel had breathlessly said ‘Jesus, that was so BADASS’ when they’d finally escaped the principal’s office, and were safe within the Impala.

Castiel flowed like water into Dean’s life, filling up all the empty spots, the nooks and crannies that were hollow and dark and aching. He shimmered there, radiating happiness, even though his own life wasn’t exactly filled with sunshine. It was like those fourteen years they were separated had passed in a blink of an eye, sitting at his kitchen table, and getting a head start on two weeks’ worth of homework and studying he’d have to do while suspended.

Dean smiled to himself as he flipped through a history workbook, and when he heard Castiel humming a familiar tune across the table, he doesn’t hesitate to start singing along.

“It’s the…eye of the tiger, it’s the thrill of the fight….”

Yeah….this was going to work out alright.


	4. Chapter 4

That night was spent eating pizza again (Cas and Dean’s favorite was still pepperoni and sausage with olives, while Sam insisted on a Hawaiian for himself), watching stolen cable TV, and catching up. Sam eventually went to bed, his eyes drooping and Dean ribbed him about being a wuss, throwing a couch pillow after his brother when Sam flipped him off. He changed the channel then, going to a monster movie, and he and Cas sat enthralled for the next few hours.

It was nearly midnight by the time Castiel remembered he hadn’t called home, and that he had a curfew of 10pm.

“…Shit, Dean, I’m so screwed,” Cas lamented, sighing and scrubbing a hand through his unruly dark hair, only succeeding in making it stand up more, much to Dean’s amusement.

“Don’t worry dude,” Dean laughed, “Let me drive you home and if your parents are still up, I think they’ll understand why you were out so late. S’not every day that your childhood friend moves home.”

“BEST friend, Dean,” Cas said with a smile, eyes flicking up and over to Dean as he quickly packed his homework back into his backpack.

Dean’s throat grew tight at that, a lump forming around the words he wanted to say in the moment; by the time he could speak, the moment had passed, and all he could say was something far less emotional than what he’d wanted to say.

“Yup…let’s get you home Cas.”

They walked outside together, bumping shoulders as they talked quietly, not afraid to wake the neighbors up, but more just caught in their own little world once more. Dean opened the door for Cas, not even thinking about it until Castiel flushed and stuttered out a ‘Thank you’, before slipping inside. Dean bit his lip and frowned softly, wondering to himself why he did that, before shrugging and jogging over to his side. The door shut, key in the ignition, Dean grinned over at Cas and turned the key-…only to hear nothing but the RR-RR-RR of an engine that wants to start…but just won’t.

“…Oh c’mon baby, don’t do this to me,” Dean coaxed, stroking a hand along the car’s dashboard…but to no avail, as the second time he tried to turn the engine over, it still wouldn’t catch.

“FUCK,” Dean bit out, growling at his car in anger, but he’s startled out of his mental loop of ‘dammit dammit dammit’ by Castiel’s hand resting on his arm.

“Hey?...Let me try, Dean,” Castiel said with a half-smile, then reached out and grasped the key with long, delicate fingers.

‘…He has pretty hands,’ Dean thought, then flushed and swallowed, looking up at Castiel, who was concentrating on the key. He turned it, and there’s nothing for a second, before the car practically roars to life, every dial and light in the machine turning on and flaring with life, brighter than they ever had before. Even the headlights looked brighter, which Dean knew was his fault for only being able to afford the cheap bulbs the last time he’d replaced them when one burnt out. Dean’s eyes widened in shock, and he turned to his friend, jaw dropping open.

“How…what…Cas?” he asked dumbly.

Castiel just paused, biting his plump lower lip and looking up at Dean from beneath long black lashes (‘God, his eyes are pretty,’ Dean thought, and mentally smacked himself).

“…I, uh….I guess I have a way with cars…,” Cas said, and Dean can almost feel the lie, the way Castiel’s mouth wrapped around the words, almost protecting them. He almost calls Castiel on it too, but there’s something there, something in the way the other boy slowly pulled away and sat back in the seat, darting blue eyes back over at Dean nervously, that stopped him. Something in Castiel’s demeanor just begged, ‘drop it Dean’,…so he did.

Dean put his baby in gear and then they were off, rolling quietly down the gravel driveway, and then onto the asphalt, to tear down the silent streets of Lawrence at half past midnight, with not another soul in sight.

By the time they reached Castiel’s house, Dean had all but forgotten the weirdness of just a few minutes ago, and he and Cas were grinning and talking about that Fourth of July, and how they would have to try and outdo themselves this year, now that they were both 18, and could buy fireworks themselves.

“No, dude, we’re going all out,” Dean said, so excited he’s tapping his hand on the steering wheel to the music playing low in the car, visibly vibrating with it.

Castiel laughed, and it’s a pleasant sound, something that warmed Dean inside out, like hot soup on a freezing January day. It made him feel uneasy as well, realizing that his best friend’s laugh made his gut churn the same way that Jenny Martin’s tight sweater from his 2nd period class had.

“Okay Dean,” Cas said with a smile, and then unbuckled his belt as they rolled to a stop in front of his house.

It looked the same as Dean remembered it…well, almost. The trees were taller, wider, and the house has been repainted from white with brown trimming to blue with white trimming. Dean had to admit that it looked better this way. More welcoming, even though his memories of that house would always be some of his best. The porch light was still on, and through the gauzy curtains in the window, he could see a TV flickering, telling both boys that Castiel’s Mother was most likely still up. Dean can’t bring himself to look to the right, where his peripheral vision told him a new house had been built on the lot that his old house had burned down on. He just can’t.

“Coming in, Dean?”

“You got it, Cas.”

The first thing Cas’ Mom did was glare at her son.

The second thing was start crying as she beckoned Dean over for a hug.

She smelled like flowers and pumpkin pie, and Dean tried not to cry as he hugged her tight, his heart aching from the simple thing.

“Dean Winchester, where have you been?! It’s so good to see you again, honey,” She said with a smile, wiping at her eyes and smearing carefully applied makeup. Castiel’s Mom had aged gracefully, going from a thin, petite woman with broad hips and narrow shoulders, brown hair down to her butt, to a pleasantly plump woman with shoulder length brown hair, touches of gray at her temples, the lines around her eyes and mouth just showing the world how much she smiled. She gently stroked a hand down the side of Dean’s face, then smacked him once, barely more than a tap.

Dean flinched, his eyes widening, as she took his chin in her hand and pointed a finger at his face, her soft blue eyes narrowing as she glared up at him.

“But if you ever bring Castiel home this late again without calling me first, I’m going to bend you over my knee and spank you, I don’t care if you’re 18 or not, you understand?”

“Yes Mrs. Novak.”

She grinned then and shook her head, hugging him once more before releasing him and patting his back.

“You know it’s just Clara…always has been.”

“..Yes Clara.”

“Now sit down, Dean, and tell me where you’ve been for the last…Christ, how long has it been?”

“14 years, ma’am…”

“Clara, Dean, not ma’am. You ma’am me one more time-“

“Okay okay! Sorry, geez…”

Clara shot him a glare, and Dean smiled, cheeky, and she couldn’t help but laugh. 18 or 4 years old…Dean was Dean, there was no way around it.

Clara sat back down in her recliner, wrapping the lavender robe around her frame once more and waving a hand for both teenagers to sit down on the matching couch next to her chair.

“Sit, sit….tell me everything, I wanna know where you’ve been, what you’ve seen…Lots of catching up to do, you n’ me. I’m assuming you’ve already caught Castiel up on your busy life?”

Castiel smiled from his spot next to Dean on the couch, his legs curled up beneath him, shoes kicked off at the door where they always were.

“Not as much as I’d like, Momma,” Cas said with a grin over at Dean, who flushed for some stupid reason.

“…Well, Winchester, start talking.”

It was 3am by the time they stopped talking, and only then because Dean looked up between one sentence and the next, and found Clara asleep, curled up child-like, in her chair. Castiel covered his mother with a crocheted afghan in violet and cream colors, and then led Dean up to his room.

It was still covered in airplanes, and drawings and pictures of birds. There was even a picture of Castiel hang gliding, the biggest grin Dean had ever seen on his face.

“Still obsessed with flying, huh?”

Castiel blushed as he shut the door to his room, leaning against it and watching his best friend wander around. It was surreal, seeing Dean now. He was 18, broad shouldered and tanned and gorgeous, just walked around the room and dominated the space by just being there. Castiel could still see 4 year old Dean, green eyes wide with wonder, shrieking and gasping ‘COOL!’ at every other thing in Castiel’s room.

Dean looked over at Cas and blinked, blushing just slightly when he realized the other had been staring at him.

“Dude, what? I got somethin’ on m’face?” Dean asked and scrubbed a hand down the side of his face while Castiel grinned and bit his lower lip, and okay, that was almost unbearably cute.

“No, Dean, you’re fine,” Castiel said lightly, then walked over and plopped down on his bed, pulling his legs up to sit Indian style.

“I’m glad Mom let me have tomorrow off…I can’t imagine going to school after that…,”

“Yeah, and on like, 4 hours of sleep too, dude,” Dean snorted, and sat down on the other side of Cas’ bed, hands behind his head as he kicked off his own shoes and leaned back against the headboard, looking like he belonged amongst the dark blue pillows and plaid bedspread.

“…Yeah…”

“…So….Cas?”

“Mmm?”

“…Where’s your Dad, dude?” Dean hadn’t seen nor heard a single mention of the man since meeting up with Castiel again. He remembered a tall man with wide gray eyes and a strong jawline, shoulders that could hold two four year olds, one on either side. But to not have any mention of the man at all? Something felt off.

Castiel stiffened at the mention of his Father and looked up at Dean, eyes wide and face haunted suddenly.

“…Dude, what?...Cas? You okay man?”

Dean sat up, crawling to sit beside Castiel as the other teen opened and closed his mouth once, twice, then shook his head as if to clear it.

“He, uh…he died, Dean…about 10 years ago…I think I was …7? 8?...I can’t really remember much, just that…he, uh…,” Cas licked his lips and frowned hard, hands clenched around the fabric of his jeans. Dean reached out and placed a warm hand on his  arm, and instantly the other boy relaxed, started breathing again and offerd Dean a soft smile when he looked up.

“…Thanks…”

“…No problem…”

Castiel took a deep breath and sighed it out, then begun talking in a low tone.

He told Dean that his Father had always been absent…a traveling salesman, that he actually saw the man maybe 4 or 5 days out of the month. The rest of the time, it was just Castiel and his Mother, fending for themselves at home.

“When you and your family were next door…it was easier. Your Dad would come over and help my Mom with fixin’ stuff like door hinges and cabinets that squeaked…and your Mom n’ mine would make dinners together sometimes…she…Momma was happy when your family was our neighbors..,” Cas finished, voice quiet.

“…How did he die, Cas?” Dean asked, looking down and realizing that somewhere, in and amongst Cas talking, he’d taken the other boy’s hand. He flushed, but didn’t release it.

“…I killed him.”

“…Wait…what?” Dean asked, eyes widening as he stares at his friend.

“I did. I told you Dean…I make things happen. Dad…got fired, from his job. And my Mom found out that he’d been cheating on her while he was out on the road. They-…They had a fight. It was..um…bad. Really, really bad. He hit her so hard that I thought he was going to kill her, Dean…so..I-…I stopped him,” Cas whispered, voice strained and eyes so wide Dean was afraid they were going to pop right out of Castiel’s skull. He squeezed Castiel’s hand and the other looked up, his lips pressed together in a smile or a grimace, Dean couldn’t tell.

“…What happened, Cas?”

“…I made him leave. I pushed him off of her and yelled at him, and he just…he just left. The look on his face Dean, when I touched him?...,” Cas shivered, “I can’t forget it. It’s like…like I just wanted him to go, and then he did…I don’t…,”

Dean frowned.

“But…Cas…you didn’t-,”

“NO, Dean, you don’t…you don’t understand!...I wanted him to GO…I wanted him to DIE…and he did. He walked out of the house,… and then into the street in front of a bus.”

Dean’s breath caught in his throat, the lump there larger than something he could ever swallow.

“C…Cas?”

“….I killed him,” Cas whispered, “I wanted him dead, and he died.”

“Cas you didn’t..you can’t blame yourself for something like that…,” Dean whispered back, tugging the other boy into a hug, “…he was hurting your Mom, man…of course you wanted him dead, but it was an accident.”

Castiel was silent, arms slowly wrapping around Dean’s shoulders and clinging to the other boy, the strength in Dean’s body warming Castiel inside out.

For the first time in ten years, Castiel didn’t feel alone.

“…I’ve never told anyone about this…,” he sighed against Dean’s neck.

Dean shivered and licked his lips, voice croaking when he spoke.

“Not even your Mom?”

“…She was unconscious by the time I shoved him…and the cops think it was suicide…”

“…But it was, Cas…”

“…No…he…he said he was going to kill her…t-then me…and I yelled at him, I said that I wished he would just die, and I shoved him…and…Dean, his face went blank and he just walked out of the house…and in front of that bus…It was like he wasn’t even there anymore…like something else was controlling him.”

Dean swallowed hard, frowning, mind in over drive as he rubbed a soothing hand up and down Castiel’s back.

A poltergeist maybe? Some kind of spirit that did Castiel’s bidding as a child?

“…Cas…does this kind of thing still happen?”

“W-what? No! I haven’t…he’s the only one I-“

“No! No…not that, I mean…Does other stuff like that happen? Where you ask or want something…and it just… happens?”

Castiel was quiet for a long moment, then nodded against Dean’s neck.

“…Yeah…sometimes…”

Dean frowned harder, arms wrapping tighter around his friend for a moment, before Castiel sniffed and pulled back slowly. Dean pulled back as well, smiling and coughing as he brought his hands back into his lap.

“Heh…enough chick flick moments for one night, eh?” He said with a grin.

Castiel smiled and ducked his head, letting out a huff of a laugh.

“Yeah…just a bit.”

“…So, uh…I should get going…,” Dean said after a moment of silence, standing up from the bed and adjusting his jeans. Castiel reached out and grabbed Dean’s hand, frowning up at his friend with worried eyes.

“Dean?”

“…What’s up Cas?”

“…You’re not…I mean…did this freak you out?”

Dean let out a bark of laughter, and oh god, if Cas only knew.

“No dude…it’s cool….weird shit happens sometimes, right? Doesn’t mean anything.”

Castiel’s blue eyes searched his, piercing and intense, and after a moment Dean felt that tendril of warmth curling low in his belly and he flushed, looking away quickly.

“…So, I better go…”

“…Okay Dean….I’ll, um….see you tomorrow?” Castiel asked, the question laced with uncertainty.

Dean grinned.

“…Dude, yes. We’re not done catching up…and I need help mowing the lawn. Come over tomorrow.”

“Oh!...Uh, okay…I don’t have your number? I should call you, before-..you know, so that I don’t uh, come at a bad time.”

Dean snorted, but pulled out his phone, and the boys traded, each programming their number in to the other’s phone, before trading back.

“Yeah, whatever dude, like you coming to hang out could ever be at a bad time.

“Okay…,” Cas said back, and his smile was so cute, his eyes crinkled around the edges…fuck.

Dean walked down the stairs silently, then out onto the porch and sat down to tie his shoes, Castiel beside him on the worn wooden steps.

“…Dean?”

“Yeah Cas?”

“…I’m really glad you came back.”

Dean looked at Castiel, who was so pale in the moonlight he almost glowed, eyes shining and lips wet like he’d just licked them. Dean’s gut churned again, and he swallowed down the feeling that rose in his body like lava, boiling hot and unstoppable.

“…Me too…”

Cas threw his arms around Dean’s neck then, and hugged him tight, and Dean blushed and sputtered and hugged him back for a second, before pulling back and racing down the steps, and into his car. With a wave Dean started the Impala and drove off, leaving Castiel standing in his jeans and t-shirt on the porch, shivering at the sudden cold.

Dean got home that morning around 4am, and collapsed into his bed. He sighed as he pulled back the blanket and curled up under it in boxers and a t-shirt, too tired to even consider jerking it, despite the warmth in his belly that still curled there. There’s a beep as he plugged his phone in, and he hesitated for a minute, then sent his new phone contact, ‘Cas’, a message.

Castiel was just about to fall asleep when his phone trilled, and he opened it to see a message from his own new contact.

The Batman: Night dude, really good to see you again.

Castiel grinned to himself and rolled his eyes, then replied, before shutting the phone and curling up around a pillow, his dreams filled with freckles, green hair, and plush lips against his.

Dean woke up the next morning to a text he hadn’t received the night before, and it made his heart skip a beat in his suddenly too tight chest.

Cas: I missed you too Dean. So much.


	5. Chapter 5

 

Over the next two weeks while Dean was suspended, his routine was basically the same every day, and he found himself thoroughly enjoying it.

8am saw Dean waking up, throwing on some clothes, and driving Sammy in to school. If he was lucky he’d get to talk to Cas for a few minutes in the school parking lot before the bell would ring and his friend would give him a hasty hug before running off to his class, late once again.

By 9am Dean would be home again after doing some early morning shopping, first with the cash their Dad left them, and then with a stolen credit card once the cash ran out. He gathered both food and home improvement supplies, and a few school things that Sam had said he needed. The list of things that needed fixing in the house was a mile long, but almost all of it Dean knew how to do himself- or could figure out with the help of a little thing called the Do-It-Yourself section at the local library. By the beginning of the second week, he’d replaced the faulty wiring in the kitchen, fixed the plumbing in the bathroom so it didn’t leak anymore, and sealed all the drafts out of the house so that when he got the old window box air conditioner working again, they’d have AC for the coming summer.

Lunch would roll around and he’d wander down to the nearby pizza place, grab a slice, and flirt his way to a free second slice with the cute brunette cashier, before wandering home for some more work.

Dean would shower around 3, then pick Sammy up at 3:30, after his debate club was over (how the hell that kid got into clubs so fast was beyond Dean’s understanding).

3:30 was Dean’s favorite part of the day. He’d pull up in the Impala, and there, sitting beneath a large maple tree, would be his baby brother and his best friend. Over the two weeks of Dean’s suspension they’d spent a lot of time together at school, getting to know one another.

Dean figured he could either be jealous, or be happy for them, considering they’d both found a kindred spirit in the other. They bonded over their joint love of chess, all things Joss Whedon, and macro biology (whatever the hell that was). Dean found himself grinning as he listened to Dean and Cas argue over the merits of Buffy the Vampire slayer. (“But it’s not realistic, vampires aren’t like that!” “Says who? It’s a make believe world with make believe creatures Sam, Joss can do whatever he wants.” “Yeah, well, I hope when the TV show comes out, it’s a little more believable than the movie was…” “We’ll see Sam,” Cas said with a smile).

4pm found them crowded around Castiel’s kitchen table, doing homework and eating cookies that Clara had made them, Dean’s hand getting slapped for trying to shove more than one in his mouth at a time (“bud they’re dewishous!” he’d mumble before grabbing another and grinning sheepishly as she shook her head).

By 6:30, dinner was ready, and the three boys ate whatever Clara had made, Dean and Sam unsurprisingly not allowed to go home, once Clara had weaseled out of Sam that their Father was away on a ‘business trip’, leaving them home alone. (“You’re not going home to an empty house, on an empty stomach, to eat leftover Chinese food!” she’d yelled, and that was the end of that.).

The rest of the night was spent hanging out at Cas’ house, finishing up homework, playing chess (Sam and Cas), or watching cartoons (“It’s called anime, you guys, c’mon keep up!” Dean said, exasperated that neither Cas, nor his brother could understand his love of pixelated busty Asian ladies). Eventually, Sam would start yawning, and Dean would have to drive him home, even though he’d much rather stay and spend more time with Castiel…and the look on his best friend’s face when they’d give each other a quick hug goodbye on Cas’ porch told Dean that Cas wished the same thing.

Luckily…they’d had all day Saturday, both weekends that Dean was suspended, to themselves.

With Sam at debates all day at the school, Dean had let Castiel decide where they should go, having not been back to Lawrence in 14 years, he figured Cas would know better what there was to do. Turns out? Not much to do in Lawrence, anyway.

The first Saturday they spent running around together, celebrating the fact that it was February 14th the day before by buying all the 40% off chocolates in heart shapes and kisses, and eating until they felt sick while reclining on a bench in Veteran’s park, right across the street from their high school.

“To Valentine’s Day!” Dean said, around a mouthful of his second heart shaped box of See’s candy.

If he’d thought about it, Dean would probably have felt weird, laid back on the bench with his head pillowed by Castiel’s lap, looking up at his friend, whose hair was almost like gold where the light hit it…but he didn’t think about it, so it wasn’t weird. It just felt nice, to be that close to someone…to just be himself, and have the other person click so well.

They talked about everything and nothing, conversations merging and flowing from musical preferences (“Bon Jovi rocks dude, I don’t care what you say!” “Okay, okay, fine, but you have to admit, Queen is better” “….Okay…you got me there.”) to their favorite animal, on down to their first sexual experience.

“First kiss? First time doing the deed?”

“…Well, I don’t know about you, Dean, but I consider that kiss I gave you as my first kiss.”

“…Well..yeah…,” Dean said, blushing so red his freckles stood out like they were painted on.

Castiel grinned at that and shrugged, looking up and away.

“…I haven’t…done the deed, I mean.”

“…Wait, dude, you’re a virgin?!”

“…Yes, Dean, is that a problem?” Castiel frowned at that, not liking the way Dean had sat up so suddenly to stare at him in shock- his lap was cold now, and he felt uncomfortable with Dean staring at him like he was a freak…he got that enough from other people…he didn’t need it from Dean too.

“Well..no,” Dean waffled, “…I mean, why though? You’re freakin’ gorgeous, man, I’m sure there are girls just itchin’ t’get with you, right?”

Castiel snorted, but his face lit up with a smile, pale cheeks flushing with pleasure at Dean’s compliment.

“…Dean…I don’t know. I’m not exactly…interested, in women.”

“What?..How ar-…oh. _OH_.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up and it was his turn to blush again, muttering under his breath a soft sorry. Cas reached out and patted Dean’s arm, his head tilting to the side, giving him a look that just reeked of ‘oh you poor, sweet, slow thing’.

“It’s okay Dean…Sam only got it the second day we were in school,” Castiel teased with a sly half smile.

“Shut up! Just because I didn’t get it as fast as Mister creepily-aware-of-people’s-sexualities did…”

Castiel laughed at that, the conversation was over, and they both moved on to other things, like who could bench press more (Dean) or who was better at making daisy chains still (Cas).

The second Saturday of his suspension, Dean took Cas to a Drive-In movie, and found out that his best friend was scared of horror films…and that when Cas was scared, he got incredibly clingy.

It should have been awkward, getting almost a lapful of Castiel, the other boy whimpering and hiding his face in Dean’s neck…but it wasn’t.

Dean just wrapped an arm around the his best friend’s back and apologized over and over for dragging Cas out to see Event Horizon, even as he tried not to feel the warmth of the other’s body against his, firm and solid where girls were normally soft and curvy.

Castiel smelled like fresh cut grass (probably from mowing the lawn for Clara earlier in the day), and something else, almost undefinable. It was strange and yet Dean couldn’t stop wanting more, like wet pavement after the rain, or the middle of a forest at dusk in summer. It was warm and clean and Dean was enthralled.

He shouldn’t want to lean in and smell Castiel’s hair, breathe deep and memorize that smell, but he did.

By the end of the movie Castiel had fallen asleep, and Dean drove home that night with his heart in his throat.

Two weeks back in town, and he and Castiel were closer than ever. Two weeks and his life had completely turned around.

Two weeks and, as he waved goodbye to a sleepy eyed smiling Cas, and drove back the two miles to his house, he realized that he might not be as straight as he’d thought, two weeks ago.

“…Fuck.”


	6. Chapter 6

The Monday that Dean got back to school, there was surprisingly enough a group of people waiting for him. They were people that had seen what Dean had done in defense of the _‘freak’_ , and were more than willing to back someone that badass (and socially reckless). Castiel went through their names quickly enough, and by lunch time, Dean had a group of people that are quirky and weird and out there, calling him friend.

They were perfect.

There was Jo, a sophomore, a tomboy who was on the archery team and also a cheerleader, and don’t you dare make fun of her for it.   
Next was Ash, a senior, a redneck hick with a genius IQ who was only still in High School for the chicks, keg parties, and lazy days.   
Then came Garth, another sophomore, a skinny nerd who was actually a genuinely nice guy, despite the fake cockiness.   
After Garth was Becky, a freshman, Garth’s girlfriend, and fangirl of a surprising number of anime, which pleased Dean to no end, until the girl wouldn’t stop talking about how his favorite characters were actually gay for one another.   
And finally, rounding out the group quite nicely was a kid named Gabriel. The Senior was a year older than Dean and Castiel, and had been held back, not for lack of brains, but for lack of effort. He indulged in men, women, candy… basically anything he could get his hands on.

Dean was more than a little disturbed to discover that Gabriel had taken a shine to Sam in his absence, and after more than a few glares thrown the other teen’s way that Gabriel either missed, or just straight out ignored, Dean finally cornered him in between classes and warned him away from Sam, in not so many words.

“Back. Off.”

“Dude, Winchester, _chill out._ Sam’s adorable, but he’s also, like, 14. Jailbait, right?”

“ _13_ , actually, and my brother, so don’t.”

“Alright, alright, I got you.”

After that, they were cool.

Lunch was spent on the back field, near a baseball diamond that was run down and used only for practices now. The group hung out behind one of the dugouts, under a large willow tree, which mostly blocked them from prying eyes (and douchy football players seeking revenge on Dean).

Dean found an easy camaraderie with everyone in the group, joking and telling dirty stories with Gabriel and Ash, comparing animes they loved with Becky, and flirting shamelessly with Jo, who ended up smacking him in the arm (hard) after he asked if she wore anything under her cheerleader skirt.

Sam snorted at that and rolled his eyes, muttering “Deserved it” under his breath. Dean once again caught Gabriel smirking at Sam, and arched a brow at the Senior, who held up his hands in the universal signal for _‘I give’_.

Dean ended up stealing bits of food from everyone else, having only made Sam’s lunch, forgetting to make his own and running out of time in the morning. Luckily, no one seemed to care, and in fact he ended up stuffed, burping contentedly as Cas rolled his eyes from across the group. Dean paused, smiling as he watched Castiel interact with Ash, the two talking quietly about their AP Physics class they had together in the morning, and the Rube Goldberg project they would be working on together.

He looked around the group after that, and felt his chest expanding with emotion at how easily everyone fit together, despite all their different backgrounds. Everyone just…clicked. All losers in their own right, but together they made it work. And this was the first time Dean had seen Castiel happy outside of hanging out with just him and Sam. He was too glad to see Castiel’s smile to be jealous that his best friend was making new friends as well.

The day went by quickly enough, Dean caught up with his classes, turned in the homework, take home tests, and other things that Castiel had gotten for him during his suspension. They only shared one class, economics, 5th period, but Cas had been nice enough to go to Dean’s other classes and get his homework for him. Dean had tried to argue, but Castiel felt responsible for his suspension in the first place, so Dean had given up after Cas had turned those liquid blue eyes on him, and pouted.

Cas had actually pouted. Dean still refused to admit it was cute. At least out loud.

His last class of the day was shop class, and he was already two weeks behind on making the stupid bird house that everyone else was almost done with, but by the end of the class, Dean was more than half way done, and an instant favorite of the shop class teacher. It probably had to do with his healthy respect for the table saw.

He ended up waiting in the shade of a large tree, leaned back in the front seat of the Impala, ACDC blasting on the stereo, while Sam and Cas finished their after school activities. Sam still had debate club most days, and to Dean’s surprise, Castiel was a tenor in the choir, as well as playing violin in the orchestra. Sometimes the two groups would play together, and Castiel flushed heavily when Dean had asked to come to the next concert he was part of.

It was almost 4 by the time Sam and Cas walked out of the main building and across the pavement to the car together, but Dean was all smiles, the unusually sunny February weather making him quite happy to just sit around in his baby and wait.

“Hey guys,” Dean said with a grin, and Sam arched a brow as he slid into the back seat, having grown accustomed to Castiel taking the front by now.

“How was club?”

“Great, actually. I landed a spot on the lead team for next week’s tournament, Dean!” Sam beamed, and Dean grinned right back, reaching behind him after he threw the car into reverse, hand scrubbing through Sam’s messy hair.

 _“Dean!”_ Sam squawked, but Dean couldn’t help but laugh.

“Proud of you, little brother.”

“Thanks,” Sam said with a smile, before poking Cas in the shoulder, “Tell him, Cas!”

“Tell me what?” Dean asked, arching a brow at his friend, who smiled shyly and shruged.

“I also, did well today. They’ve moved me up to first chair.”

“…uh…”

“For the violin Dean. It means I’m the lead.”

“Oh! Well, hot damn Cas, awesome dude!”

Dean clapped a hand onto Castiel’s shoulder and squeezed, then yanked it away to shift gears, taking them out onto the road, and speeding away toward home.

“I’m thinking pizza tonight? To celebrate?”

“I’m game. We haven’t had pizza since you first got here,” Castiel said with a smile.

“Me too, as long as you get a Hawaiian.”

“Ew, Sammy. Fruit on pizza? Dude, nasty.”

“Shut up Dean, just because you hate anything healthy!”

“Hey, there are olives on my pizza!”

“Yeah, that’s healthy alright,” Sam snorted and rolled his eyes, and Castiel laughed, and Dean smiled, feeling better than he thought he could.

Maybe High School wouldn’t be so bad after all; even if his first day had proved to be a disaster…his second day had been practically heavenly.

They grabbed two pizzas from the pizza place Dean had ended up frequenting, getting half off the second Large thanks to Dean’s flirtations. Sam watched as Castiel picked up the pizzas, his face drawn tight, mouth a thin line as he turned away from where Dean was wrapping an index finger around the brunette cashier’s curls.

“So, call me?” she said, and popped her bubble gum in her mouth.

It took all of Sam’s energy not to groan as he followed Castiel back out to the car, neither of them wanting to stick around while Dean hit on the girl, tact be damned.

“…Is Dean…always like that?” Castiel asked quietly, once they were back inside the Impala.

“Hmm? Oh, you mean, lady killer?” Sam snarked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah…,” Cas looked down at the pizza boxes in his lap, his fingers fiddling with the coupon taped to the top.

“…Most of the time, yeah…He’s just…Dean. S’just how he is, Cas. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him pass up an opportunity to flirt with a pretty girl.”

“Mm…”

Sam watched Cas for a moment, and opened his mouth to ask why Castiel cared, when the driver side door opened and Dean slid inside, tossing a liter of Root Beer to Sam with a grin.

“Here ya go, Sammy, on the house.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help but smile. Seeing Dean so care free was…exhilarating. It’d been a long time since he’d seen his brother this happy.

They drove back to the house, deciding on going to the Winchesters’, as Clara was out of town for a few days at her Mother’s in Georgia, something about a Great Aunt Mable kicking the bucket.

Castiel had decided to just stay with Dean and Sam during the time his Mom was gone, and there was a duffel bag in the back seat with his overnight stuff in it that he’d dropped there when Dean had picked him up in the morning.

They piled out of the car once Dean parked and raced inside, flipping on the TV just as a movie started up. Dean grinned and Sam groaned as they both realize that it’s Terminator 2 at the same time, but Castiel won by stealing the remote, and changing the channel to something else.

“…What is this?” Dean said, immediately taken in by the animated movie on the screen.

“Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, Dean. It’s a really beautiful story about-“

“ _SHH SHHSHH!_ Don’t tell me, just let me watch!”

The three boys spent the evening on the couch, going through two large pizzas, a liter of coke, and a pint and a half of ice cream, while they watched the film.

At the end Dean was wide eyed and smiling, and Castiel couldn’t help but grin back.

“…I thought you didn’t like anime, Cas?”

“That, Dean, was not anime. That was Miyazaki. He’s in a whooooole other ballpark.”

“I’ll say. Wow, Cas, that was awesome,” Sam said, smiling as he got up, gathering the trash and headed for the kitchen.

Dean smiled and put a hand on Cas’ shoulder, his heart beating a little faster when the dark haired boy turned to look at him, the flashing light from the TV screen reflected in blue blue eyes.

“Thanks Cas,…good choice.”

Castiel stared at Dean for a moment, then smiled, crinkles showing up around the edges of his eyes, dimples Dean hadn’t noticed before appearing in his cheeks.

“You’re welcome Dean…now…you said you needed help with your Pre-Calc right?”

“…R-right…”

“Let’s get it done then…I don’t want to be up until midnight doing YOUR homework.”

“Oh c’mon Cas, we’re not going to be up until midnight!”

They were, but for an entirely different reason.

Dean, Sam and Cas ended up finishing their homework by 9 o’clock, and Sam was nice enough to pack the lunches for the next day, so that left Dean and Cas the task of shoving two single mattresses together in Dean’s room for them to sleep on. Sheets were spread out and soon they were flopping down to sleep, Sam calling goodnight from across the hall, his door shutting behind him. Dean always left his open…just in case.

They laid there in silence for a long moment, nothing but the sound of the house settling around them to break it. Dean eventually rolled onto his side and whispered to Cas, his voice soft in the night.

“Cas…you awake?”

“…Yes Dean.”

“…I’ve been thinkin’…Y’know, when we were kids?”

“Mm?”

“…All the stuff you did…with the lady bugs, and that bird that one time…is…was that really real? Can you still do that? You said people called you a freak, and that you stopped doing things…but, could you still, if you tried?”

Dean paused, waiting for an answer, letting his eyes adjust to the dark. Soon he could see Castiel’s profile, the strong nose and long eyelashes, the plump lips that were always chapped, no matter how many times Dean offered him chapstick.

“…Yes,” Castiel said hesitantly, his voice soft as well, almost as if he was afraid to admit it out loud.

“…Will you show me sometime?” Dean asked, curious if any of what they’d experienced as children was real. And if it was, _what was behind it?_

“…Okay Dean…”

That done, Dean smiled and turned the conversation to the movie they’d watched, grinning and going over all the flying machines, using his hands against the ceiling as they both lay on their backs to recreate the scenes they’d watched.

“I just, _so neat,_ all the flying machines and the creatures…I can’t get over the designs!”

“Mm…it’s one of the reasons I love his work so much…everything is so fantastical, and yet…”

“You could totally see it happenin’ here, now, huh?”

“Exactly.”

Dean turned to look at Cas and flushed, realizing they’d moved closer to one another while talking, and Castiel’s bright blue eyes were mere inches from his. His heart skipped a beat and his stomach rolled, warmth puddling in his low belly, ignited when Castiel licked his lips and offered him a tentative smile.

“…They….there’s supposed to be a new one, soon…”

“Yeah?” Dean croaked, his eyes darting from Castiel’s to his lips and back.

“Yeah…”

“…we’ll have to go see it then, huh?”

Castiel blinked, then smiled and nodded, shifting onto his back and settling in on his mattress. Dean rolled back as well, staring up at the ceiling and the shapes the tree outside threw up onto the walls, constantly shifting and changing even as he watched.

 _‘Like Cas’_ , he thought _. ‘One minute he’s this four year old kid with magic powers…and the next…’_

Dean turned his head slightly to look at Castiel, but the other boy has his eyes closed this time, lips parted gently in breath. He looked small in Dean’s worn out ‘Singer’s Salvage’ shirt, and Dean couldn’t help but smile to himself, thinking that he liked the way Castiel looked in his clothes far too much.

The next morning came too swiftly, and Dean woke up to a gentle knock on the doorjamb, Sam standing there dressed and ready to go.

“15 minutes you guys, get up, I made breakfast.”

“ ‘hanks Sammy,” Dean slured, yawning, only to sputter when he got a mouthful of dark hair. Castiel’s hair.

Because Dean was spooning his best friend, and his morning wood was pressed RIGHT up against Castiel’s ass.

Cas shifted in his sleep, and Dean was so thankful that he appeared to be a heavy sleeper, barely moving as Dean quickly extricated himself from the situation, which, lucky, wasn’t sticky.

Dean quickly hobbled to the bathroom and relieved himself, further relieved when his hard on actually went away.

 _‘Okay, so…it wasn’t Cas…I just had to pee…that’s all,_ ’ he told himself as he padded back to the bedroom.

Cas was sitting up now, blankets pooled around his waist, the stretched out neck of the t-shirt hung off one delicately boned, pale shoulder. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, and Dean swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. He had to clench his hands, which itched to smooth out Castiel’s adorable bedhead.

_Adorable bedhead?_

Dean grimaced and grunted a good morning, before he quickly turned around to grab a pair of semi-clean jeans from the floor, and a clean t-shirt from the one dresser in the room.

“Morning, Dean,” Castiel said as he hauled himself up off the floor, and shuffled to the bathroom. Dean breathed easier the minute Castiel was out of the room, and mentally slapped himself for  thinking his best friend was adorable.

 _‘Stupid, stupid stupid,’_ he thought, and headed downstairs to devour the toast and eggs Sam had made, thanking his baby brother around a mouthful, and accidentally spraying him with egg particles.

“Dean!” Sam whined, brushing at his shirt and frowning. Dean grinned and chuckled, but it was cut short when Castiel walked into the kitchen, and the atmosphere was instantly tense.

“Morning Sam.”

“Good morning, Cas…I made you eggs, sunny side up, like you like.”

“Thanks,” Cas said with a grin, and Dean felt his guts clench. Why did Sam know how Cas liked his eggs? And why did that bother Dean at all?

It was just eggs!

They left the house a few minutes late that morning, but Dean couldn’t seem to mind, his peripheral vision filled with Castiel, singing and smiling along to Queen, who Dean put on just for him.

Okay, so maybe Castiel was cute.

But like…puppy dog cute.

Right? 


	7. Chapter 7

Dean ended up acing his first pre-Calculus exam, thanks to Castiel’s tutoring. They went out to celebrate Dean’s surprise win, even though Castiel said that he ‘knew Dean would pass without a problem’. Dean was just too pleased to have passed, mostly because for the first time, Sam looked at him with that sense of pride about something Dean had accomplished while in a classroom. The trio ended up going to a nearby restaurant, a diner that Jo’s Mom Ellen owned. Lucky for them, Ellen was out for the night on a supplies run, so Jo was running things, which meant free food.

They ordered almost everything on the menu, much to Jo’s shock and dismay.

“What, you said ‘on the house!’, Jo!” Dean snickered with a grin.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually end up eating me out of the house!” she said with a scoff, but there was a hint of a smile as she snatched their menus from them and headed back to the kitchen to put in the orders.

Sam ended up texting Gabriel, who brought Ash along, and the five boys crowded into the booth. Dean was happily squished beside his best friend, who was rather warm, their thighs pressed together as Ash lounged, practically sprawled, at the end of the booth. Of course, Sam was alone with Gabriel on the other side, but so far, Gabriel had taken Dean’s warning to heart, and seemed to be leaving his little brother alone.

“So, Sammy, you’re going to be 14 in three months, how does that feel?”

“…Um…,” Sam said, darting his eyes up from where he had been folding a paper napkin into a crane (or trying to), “…like every other birthday?”

Dean forced himself to smile at that, as everyone but Sam laughed, thinking Dean’s baby brother had just made a smart alecky comment. In reality, Dean knew it was a dig on their Father. Every year, since Sam was 7 years old…John hadn’t been there for either of their birthdays. Dean swore it was a coincidence, that hunts just went on sometimes, and you lost track of time. Sam didn’t care. All he knew was that every year, he celebrated his birthday with the only person in his life that really cared enough to be there for him, no matter what else was going on- his brother.

Ash chuckled and shruged, before he reached out to steal Sam’s coke.

“S’not a big deal, man…turning 14. Can’t drive yet…still too young to do most of the cool stuff in life…like buy your own alcohol.”

Gabriel arched a brow and let loose a wide grin.

“Oh, really? And you’re old enough to do that now, are you Ash?”

Ash flushed and sat up a little, pushed the glass in his hand around on the table, condensation rings making it slide around as it shifted.

“No…not yet…”

“Then let Sammy form his own opinions about turning 14, huh?”

Sam wrinkled his nose at Gabriel and laughed, “It’s Sam!”

Dean frowned but said nothing, and the gentle elbow in his side from Cas distracted him quickly enough anyway.

“What’s up Cas?”

“You want to do something tomorrow?”

“Sure, what’re you thinkin’?”

Castiel shrugged and smiled.

“No idea, maybe…I got that new glider…go test it out?”

Dean grinned then and nudged Castiel back with his leg, watched as blue eyes widened and a pretty flush tinted Castiel’s pale cheeks pink.

“Sure, dude, that’ll be fun.”

“Stop planning dates over there, unless you’re inviting all of us and making it into an orgy,” Gabriel monotoned, chewing on a lollipop he magicked out of nowhere.

Dean blushed and stuttered, and Castiel hid his face behind his hands with a soft groan, before they both sputtered at Gabriel, almost in sync,

_“It’s not a date, Gabe!”_

Ash smirked as well, arching a brow, and in his southern twang said, “Methinks they doth protest too much,”

“Methinks so as well, Ash,” Gabriel teased with a matching smirk, and Dean silently fumed, ripping the napkin in his hands to shreds.

It _wasn’t_ a date. Just because he liked to hang out with his best friend alone from time to time, that didn’t mean anything! Just because he had more fun just sitting and talking with Cas than he ever did with anyone else….it didn’t matter. Really.

Because Cas was just his friend. His _best_ friend. That’s it.

The potential arguing was cut short when Jo came out with two armfuls of food, which she set down on their table. There was onion rings and burgers, milkshakes and fries, chicken wings and breaded mozzarella sticks- even a large salad for Sam.

“Enjoy you guys! Oh, and, you make a mess? You get to clean it up…so no spilling shit!”

She smacked Gabriel in the arm with her tray; the older teen winced and grinned up at her as she gave him the stink eye.

“Talking to you, Gabe,” Jo warned, before she sauntered off back into the kitchen for another table’s order.

Sam, Dean, Cas and Ash snickered at Gabriel, who turned three different shades of red before he mumbled a quick “Shut up”, and grabbed himself a strawberry shake.

They, of course, ended up making a mess, after Dean tossed a fry at Gabe and landed it in his chocolate shake (his second of the day), his arms immediately shot up while he shouted ‘SCORE!’

The mess was epic.

As was the look on Jo’s face when she came out, mouth hanging open in shock, at the huge mess they’d made of her Mother’s restaurant. The five boys ended up helping Jo clean the entire place that night, staying well after dark, until everything was spotless again. The process was made that much less annoying by Jo blasting old school rock n’ roll; Dean sang along as he danced around with broom and mop, singing to the handles like they were his own personal mic. Castiel couldn’t help but smile and laugh, flushing slightly when he caught eyes with Sam, who grinned in a knowing way. Clean up became karaoke soon enough; everyone hung out in one of the booths while  the ‘singer’ lip synced and danced up and down the aisle of the closed restaurant.

The final, and best performance, was done by Castiel surprisingly enough.

The boy strutted up and down the aisle to ‘Cherry Pie’, Jo tagging along and acting like she was fawning over him, fainting when Cas blew her a kiss, and crawling across the carpet toward him as he sauntered off, hand on his hip. They dirty danced together, both looking like they were having fun, but giggling too much for it to be considered truly sexual. They ended it with Jo smooching Cas on the cheek, one foot up, and Cas looking smug as he leaned away.

Gabriel whistled, fingers between his lips, and Sam crowed, cackling in enjoyment at the sight. Ash muttered something about needing a beer, but Dean was the only one silent, stunned by the transformation of his slightly shy, innocent best friend into this stunning lip licking, hip thrusting wonder that had just made his pants suddenly two sizes too small.

‘Fuck’, he thought to himself, but before he could get up and go to the bathroom to adjust himself, there was a rap on the front door, and everyone’s attention swung that way. Jo squealed and launched herself at the door, opening it wide for the middle aged buxom woman who walked in, looking for all the world like an older, brunette Jo.

“...You kids’re lucky it’s not a school night…Now get outside and help me carry this crap in!”

Dean grinned, deciding already that he liked this woman, and wondered just how much of a cougar Jo’s Mom really was. They piled outside and hauled in box after box of supplies into the kitchen, eggs and milk and bread and cheese for the next day.

“Thanks kids…’m gonna assume you’ve all already ate, yeah?”

The boys nodded sheepishly; up close, Ellen Harvelle was an intimidating woman, and more than one teenage heart beat a little faster in her presence. She grinned then, and slapped a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Good, then get the hell out, and go home…it’s almost 10, don’t care if tomorrow’s Saturday for you all, it’s just another workin’ day for me!”

They scrambled outside, and trickled on home, Gabriel driving Ash, and Sam and Castiel piling into Dean’s impala.

“Who were those boys, Jo?”

“Which ones?”

“That lanky floppy haired kid, looked like a puppy…and his brother I think? The pretty one with the freckles.”

“Oh…That’s Sam n’ Dean Winchester-“

“What?” Ellen gasped, frozen in place with two jugs of milk in her hands, eyes wide as she stared at her daughter from across the kitchen.

“…Sam…and Dean? Winc-“

“I heard you Joanna!”

Jo winced, taking a step away from her Mother, and Ellen took a deep breath and sighed, setting the milk in the fridge and shutting it, hand still on the handle as she leaned her weight forward, as if she suddenly weighed twice as much and was having trouble holding herself up.

“…Mom?”

“…Honey…you remember when I told you your Daddy’d had an accident? Huntin’?”

“Yeah…you told me he was huntin’ something big and bad that was killing people…I remember.”

“…The accident wasn’t really an accident. He had a friend with him…that friend was reckless…stupid. Got your Father killed.”

“…Okay…”

“…That man was John Winchester. Sam and Dean’s Father.”

Jo’s breath hitched in the middle of an inhale, and her world spun around her.

Sam and Dean’s Dad? He was responsible for her Father’s death?

“…Jo? Joanna?”

Hands shook her and slowly Jo came back, shaking her head slowly.

“Sorry Mom..I …”

“I know baby, it’s a lot to take in…have you seen John?”

“No…Dean said…he said that his Dad was away, on a business trip,” Jo said, her voice soft as she frowned gently.

Ellen scoffed.

“Business trip my ass. That man’s been huntin’ a demon, demon with yellow eyes, since his youngest was in diapers.”

“…Was that what killed Daddy?” Jo asked quietly, pain laced in her voice.

Ellen frowned softly and cleared her throat, emotion making it tight.

“No baby…wasn’t that demon…was another monster.”

Mother and daughter hugged each other in the flickering light of the kitchen, the fluorescent bulb doing its damnest every day to die out, and yet, there it was, flickering away the very next day.

Ellen frowned softly as she rubbed a hand up and down Jo’s back. 15 was too young for someone to be brought into this world of violence. Ellen had tried to stop hunting when she lost her William; sold the Roadhouse and moved to Lawrence, bought this place with the little cash she had.

It was supposed to be a place to start over, to raise her daughter in peace and protection.

But it seemed everywhere she went; Winchesters followed her, like a curse. She just hoped Sam and Dean were smarter than their Daddy.

Dean droped off Castiel at home, Clara having come back from her trip to Georgia earlier in the week, ending the sleep overs at Dean’s house (at least for a little while). Cas smiled as he scooted over and hugged Dean, then slid back across the bench seat and out, holding the door open for Sam to hop into the front seat like always.

“Bye Sam,…bye Dean,” Cas said with a smile, eyes lingering on his best friend for just a little while longer. Dean swallowed hard and smiled back, but it felt fake, awkward, and he pulled the car away from the curb before Cas was even fully inside his house.

“Dude, what is up with you?”

“What are you talking about Sammy?” Dean grumped.

Sam arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest, his legs dangling over the edges of the seat, barely touching the floor.

“That! That right there…you’re grumpy all the time, man…Look, I know you liked having Cas over all the time-“

“Oh C’mon Sam! That’s not it.”

“Then what is it? Tell me Dean, what’s going on?”

Dean gritted his teeth. Freakin’ smart ass little brothers and their freakin’ smart ass ways.

“NOTHING, okay?”

“Liar.”

“Bitch.”

“JERK.”

There was silence in the car for a few moments, but when Dean pulled into their driveway he sighed, and spoke once the car is parked.

“I didn’t like seein’ Jo and Cas like that okay? All over each other.”

“So, what, you like Jo?”

“No…not really. I mean, yeah, kinda, she’s hot, but not really…she’s more like a sister, dude.”

“…So…what then, you like Cas?”

“ _NO_ , jesus Sam!”

“What, there’s nothing wrong with liking guys, Dean.”

“Uh yeah, I know that, but I’m _not gay,_ Sam, I like chicks. Chicks with boobs. Big boobs, preferably.”

Sam snorted.

“Okay, fine, yeah, you like chicks…why didn’t you like seeing them dance like that then?”

“Just…felt weird, seeing Cas like that…all…sexual. Grinding with Jo and dancing like that…was just weird.”

“Weird how?”

“I don’t know Sam! God…stop pestering me.”

Dean threw the door to the impala open and stormed inside, Sam quick on his heels. They got inside and Dean shrugged out of his jacket, tossed his keys on the counter just as Sam continued talking.

“Look, Dean…I’ve seen how you look at him, ok? And the cuddling dude?”

“What cuddling? Shut up.”

“PFFT. Like you could hide it. Every morning Cas slept over, you’d be wrapped around him like an octopus or something, man, don’t try and deny it, I SAW IT.”

Dean blushed bright red and mumbled something under his breath as he stalked into the other room and fliped the TV on, something that sounds like ‘so? S’cold up there.’

Sam rolld his eyes and stood in front of the TV, arms crossed over his chest.

“You know what I think Dean?”

Dean rolled his eyes right back and sighed heavily, slumping back in his chair, head propped up on a fist, elbow on the armrest.

“No, Sammy, please, tell me what you think?” Dean snarked, sarcasm dripping from every word.

Sam ignored the barb, and smirked slowly, looking ever so smug.

“I think you _like_ Cas, and you’re afraid to admit it, because you’re ashamed of it.”

With that, Sam walked away and upstairs, leaving his older brother sitting dumbfounded downstairs.

Dean sat staring blankly at the TV, not really absorbing anything the flickering box was shooting so desperately at him, and just…thought.

An hour later, Dean threw open the door to Sam’s room and walked in, stopping at the foot of Sam’s bed. He threw his arms out, all but yelling at his brother.

“But I’m not GAY Sammy!”

Sam sighed once again and sat up from where he’d been laying on his back on his bed, reading something Castiel had let him borrow. He fixed Dean with a glare and then rolled his eyes.

“Ever heard of Kinsey?”

“Who?”

“Kinsey. Alfred Kinsey. He came up with this thing called the ‘Kinsey Scale’. It basically says that between gay and straight, there’s this huge gray area that most people land in. Most people aren’t totally gay or straight, Dean, that’s what I’ve been _trying_ to tell you.”

“…Okay..fine…but I’M not gay.”

“…Okay,” Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “…let’s try this again. Do naked dudes turn you on?”

“What? No! Gross man…god, Sammy…ew,” Dean says, wrinkling his nose and sticking his tongue out in the classic ‘yuck’ face.

Sam crossed his arms over his chest and smirked up at Dean.

“…What about the idea of Cas…naked?”

Dean’s eyes widened and he’s still suddenly, his mind wrapping around the idea of Cas, the smooth, pale skin of his hands and arms that must continue everywhere…’She’s my, Cherry Pie’ starts playing in his head, and Dean’s cheeks flushed and he grew warm, hot even, thinking about full chapped lips and lightly haired arms and legs, a flat stomach that he knew (from glimpses between the hem of a shirt and the top edge of jeans) was leanly muscled. He wondered what Castiel’s cock looked like…would it look like Dean’s? Was he cut too?

“…Well,” Sam said with another smirk after Dean had been silent for a few long moments, “I think that answers my question.”

Dean flushed even darker and sputtered, “…still not gay…”

“No…but you are attracted to Cas, Dean,” Sam said, pointing a finger at his brother, “and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Dean licked his lips and then paced the room a bit, before stopping and frowning slightly.

“So what…I’m straight with the exception of Cas?”

“Cas-sexual man, s’not a bad thing to be Dean, really. You could have picked someone worse to go gay for.”

“DUDE! NOT! GAY!” Dean shouted at his brother, and threw a pillow at the giggling thirteen year old.

“Ass.”

“I’m sorry Dean, but it’s funny!”

“Shut it Sammy, m’not talkin’ t’you anymore…,” Dean sulked, walking out of Sam’s room and into his own, the door slamming shut behind him.

Sam reclined on his bed, picking his book up again and turning back to the page he’d been reading. He paused, looking out his door at the door across the hall, and wondered momentarily if his brother would be okay…

There’s a murmur from across the hall, and then a laugh, and Sam smiled to himself, recognizing that laugh instantly.

It was the laugh Dean only used when he was talking to Sam, or Cas- Dean’s real laugh.

Sam smiled to himself, and lost himself in the world the book provided, hoping in the back of his mind that Dean would get over the whole ‘gay’ thing soon; he deserved to be happy, and Sam knew that Cas was just the person to help with that.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shhhhhhhmoopy.

The next morning, bright and early, Dean is woken up to a familiar sight, which startles him after a moment where his brain was too hazy to understand why it should. Castiel was leaning over him, staring at him with a grin on his face.

“Cas?! What the hell, man?!”

“Sorry, Dean…you’re just too innocent and adorable when you’re asleep,” he says with a chuckle, still leaning over Dean with a hand on either side of his shoulders. Dean flushes and shoves his friend out of the way with a grunt, turning even dark red when his morning erection responds to the physical contact by throbbing in his boxers. Shit.

“Gotta pee,” he grumbles, and darts out of his room to the bathroom, the door slamming behind him, leaving a bewildered Castiel sitting on the floor next to Dean’s mattress.

Fifteen minutes later Dean is showered and dressed, and he finds Cas downstairs, watching Saturday morning cartoons with Sam, eating a bowl of cereal.

“Hey Dean, feeling more human now?” Sam says with just an edge of snark, and Dean doesn’t miss the glare Cas throws Sam’s way.

“…Yeah…m’fine….Cas, we going?”

“OH…uh, yes…let me put this in the sink.”

“S’fine, Sammy can take care of it.”

“Hey!”

“Shut it, bitch, your turn to do dishes anyway!”

Dean leaves the house without looking back, the screen door slamming behind him, only reminding him that he had to fix it later that night. He stalks over to the Impala and climbs in, turning her on and smiling in satisfaction as his baby starts right up, rumbling and purring her good mornings to him.

“Missed you too sweetheart,” he murmurs as he strokes the dash, but he quickly straightens up when the passenger seat door opens and Castel climbs in, a large plywood glider in hand that he sets carefully in the back seat.

“Ready?” Dean asks, adjusting the rear view mirror.

“Ready,” Cas replies with a broad smile, fresh faced and happier than Dean had seen him in days. He can’t help but smile back then, grinning ear to ear at his best friend as he backs the car out of its spot, and heads out down the road, toward one of the large fields on the edge of town that he knew would be perfect for the glider’s flight.

The ride out to the field is…comfortable, like usual. Everything had been easy between them when they were kids, and unsurprisingly, it was just as easy now.

Even though Dean was rapidly realizing just how attracted to his best friend he really was.

As they drove he noticed things he hadn’t before, like the deep pitch of Castiel’s voice as they belted out Hot Blooded Woman together, or he way the wind whipped his dark hair around, making it even messier than before. Cas’ throat was long and pale and beautiful when he laughed, throwing his head back and smiling with his whole body, one delicate, long fingered hand out the open window, playing in the air currents that swept past.

Dean found himself mesmerized by chapped lips and dimples, bright blue eyes that put the clear spring sky to shame in light like this. He couldn’t help but smile back whenever Cas caught him staring, but if the other teen thought something was up, he didn’t voice his concerns.

The drive to the field was short though, and before long Dean was pulling off the paved two lane highway, and onto a dirt road that was cracked and pitted from rain and tiny streams that ran down it, looking for the lowest point to gather and puddle. There were knee high weeds growing in the center, and all along the road they grew, pale purple coneflower and evening primrose in a flash of yellow as they drove past, behind them tall wheat like grasses that moved and swayed with the spring breeze. Dean inhales, taking in the dusty, clean scent of the air out here, the trees lining the road providing just enough shade as they pass by that the morning light nips in and out, flickering and playing across Dean’s eyes continually as he drives.

The road stops at an abandoned house, but continues right into a large, open field with a fence that had long since stopped being repaired, and was falling apart piece by worn out piece. Dean parks the car and climbs out, stretching and taking off his jacket, the chill in the morning air prickling his skin, but feeling good all the same. The gentle slam of the car door makes him look up, and Cas is standing there with a hesitant smile on his face, glider in one hand, remote in the other.

“Ready?”

“Yeah, just have to make sure there’s enough space for a take off…”

“Hm..okay.”

They end up barely managing to get enough room for a run way out of the road, the weeds making it difficult, but in the end it works, and as the sun heads into the sky over the tree tops, so does the little red glider, Castiel’s whoop of excitement drowning out the tiny engine on the plane.

“YES!”

“Awesome Cas!”

Cas grins over at Dean and Dean is stunned into silence by how gorgeous his best friend is in the morning light. Dean’s smile falters and Cas blinks, frowning, but he has to look back up at the plane, keeping it aloft taking almost all of his attention.

“Dean?”

“…uh, yeah Cas?”

“…Are you okay?…You’ve been…off,” Cas says, hesitant to point out the weirdness he’ been noticing lately…ever since he danced with Jo, actually. Castiel swallows hard, a sick leaden feeling hurting him stomach hard. Could that be it? Was Dean mad at him because he liked Jo?

“Yeah! Yeah dude, I’m fine..just…distracted, is all..,” Dean says, leaning against the Impala’s hood.

“Oh,” Cas says, then takes a few steps back to lean back beside his friend, enjoying the solid metal behind him, still warm from the engine being on recently.

“Anything you want to talk about? You’re going okay with school…right? I mean-…you aced that quiz in Pre-Calc right?” Cas says with a smile, eyes darting from the glider to Dean and back.

Dean smiles, crosses his arms over his chest and lets his gaze slide from Castiel’s perfect profile up into the sky, joining Castiel’s own, so they both watched as the red plane swooped and turned, ducked and soared almost straight up in the early morning sky.

“Yeah…it’s not school. It’s nothing…really. Sam and I had a talk last night-“

“You never call him Sam unless he’s in trouble, Dean,” Cas points out, nudging Dean with an elbow. Dean chuckles and ducks his head, amused by Cas’ accurate assessment.

“Yeah, well, he kinda was. He was right about what he told me…but I didn’t really want to hear it,” Dean muses, eyes looking down at his boots, were a line of ants were skirting around the tip. He moves his foot back, out of the way, and smiles slightly when they almost immediately go back to their old path. Predictable.

“Well, what was it?”

“Dude, seriously, it’s not a big deal,” Dean huffs, rolling his eye at Cas, who rolls his own right back at Dean.

“If it’s not a big deal, Dean, then just tell me what he told you.”

Dean bristles, not appreciating how unusually nosy Cas was being. Normally, Cas would let things lie until Dean was ready to talk about them…until he was sure it was safe to.

“Dude, drop it, okay?!…I just don’t want to talk about it!” he snaps at Cas, causing the other boy to flinch and shrink visibly in on himself, and Dean immediately feels like the biggest asshole in the universe, his chest aching at how a raised voice, even from his best friend, brought out this kind of reaction in Cas.

“Cas,…dude?”

“…Y-yea?”

“…M’not gonna hit you man..,” Dean says quietly. Cas flushes and licks his lips, nodding.

“I know.”

“…Okay.”

They lean against the Impala in silence for a few long moments, until Cas nudges Dean again.

“You want to try?”

“You sure, dude?”

“Yeah, Dean, I trust you,” Castiel says, smiling shyly up at his friend. Their hands touch as they pass the controller quickly, one to the other, and while neither of them says anything, they both feel it.

That spark, the one that happens that makes your body heat up, your heart race, your entire being just ache to be with that person. Dean swallows it down and lets it simmer, low in is stomach, roiling heat and need that felt like it was a tiger, stuck in much to small a cage, snarling to get out.

Castiel, on the other hand, reveled in the feeling. He let the heat consume him, the ache burn him alive, because every chest constriction, every breath that hitched in his throat, proved to him that he was alive, and he felt something better than loneliness, or pure base need. He felt something more, and he knew, sitting next to his stubborn block head of a best friend, that he wouldn’t give it up for the world.

“…I like you,” Dean spews out, the words sputtered almost, they’re said so quickly.

Castiel whips his had around to stare at Dean, whose eyes were busy staring at the glider in the sky.

“W….What?”

“…I….I think I like you.”

“..Dean, don’t fuck with me, that’s not fun-“

“I’m not!..I….I think I like you…love you, maybe..I-I don’t know Cas, I just…you make me happy and you’re HERE when I needed someone the most, and it’s…,” Dean flicks his eyes from the plane to Cas, his cheeks flushed, then back again, “I think it’s always been you…since we were kids and you gave me my first kiss.”

Castiel practicallyrips the controller out of Dean’s hand and tosses it away, Dean’s eyes widening.

“Shit, Cas what the hell, the gilder!?” he says as he takes a step to retrieve the fallen controller.

“Fuck the plane Dean,” Cas bites out, then grabs two handfuls of Dean’s jacket, spinning them around to slam Dean against the hood of his own car. Up close, Castiel was even more gorgeous, eyes a million shades but Dean lacked the knowledge to know and name them all so all his mind could come up with was BLUE.

“…Was that what Sam spoke to you about?” Cas demands, and Dean opens him mouth to speak, but winces at the sound of the plane crashing nearby.

“Yes, I-“

“That you like me?”

“…Yeah…,” Dean says, flushing and looking down, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, wetting them nervously.

“….Good, because I like you too,” Cas says, and Dean’s eyes dart up, taking in the smile Cas had on, the one that could only be described as ‘beaming’ and seemed to radiate light and warmth. It melted Dean inside out whenever he saw it, but this time he barely has time to react to it, before that mouth is pressed to his.

Dean makes a startled sound, but quickly moves with it, his arms wrapping around his best friend’s waist, hands splaying out over the leanly muscled form, just as Castiel’s own arms wrap up and around his neck, hand fisted in his short hair. Cas’ lips were chapped like always, dry and scratchy, but plush and giving, opening up so easily under Dean’s own mouth. Cas wasn’t inexperienced though, Dean could tell from how he kissed, darting his tongue out to play then drawing it back, coaxing Dean out of his own mouth into Cas’. A flash of red hot jealousy slides through him, and Dean reminds himself to find out more about Castiel’s past relationships later….when the boy wasn’t busy weaseling a thigh between Dean’s, grinding their hips together and letting out breathy moans that made Dean suddenly very glad he wore his loose fitting jeans.

They break apart when they need to breath, both boys sucking in air greedily, still clinging to one another, hands gripping fabric and hair and skin alike.

“…J…jesus, Cas…,”

“I don’t believe…he has anything…to do with this Dean,” Cas says with a wry smile, which sets Dean laughing.

“Oh….God….so much for us not dating, huh?” he says as he pulls Cas in for a hug. Cas stiffens, and pulls back to look up into Dean’s eyes, frowning lightly.

“…Is that…is that what we’re doing now? Dating?”

Dean blinks then arches an eyebrow.

“Uh…yeah dude, I was kinda hoping so…I don’t go gay for just anyone, Cas…,”

Cas stares at Dean for what seems like a solid minute, before flushing and smiling.

“You were jealous of Jo,” he says, and trails his fingers through Dean’s hair.

“I was not!”

“Were too.”

“Was. Not.”

“Were. Too.”

“Dammit Cas!”

“You’re cute when you’re angry…”

“…Shut up.”

Dean shuts Cas up with another kiss…and another.

They don’t get home that night until well after midnight, and Sam tries not to notice that they go straight to Dean’s room, and shut the door.

Dean never shuts the door.

Sam fist pumps, and considers awarding himself the title ‘Best little brother of the decade’, but settles for eating Dean’s ice cream instead.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> boys doing boy stuff.  
> and by that I mean stuff that would get them in some serious trouble if they were caught.  
> ...it's sex ok?

The next few weeks are spent with marathon make out sessions in the backseat of the Impala, love notes stuck in lockers, and fumbled hand jobs under the sheets at Dean’s house. They don’t say it out loud, but neither boy really wants to chance Castiel’s Mother finding out about them- it was bad enough that Sam knew, even if he wasn’t saying anything.

That first day they went back to school, after a weekend of bliss, Dean had wanted to tell their friends, at the very least but Cas had stopped him with three simple words.

“Dean, please, don’t.”

“Cas?” Dean asked intelligently, brow furrowed in confusion. He assumed that Castiel would be just as elated as he was to let their friends know about them, and in time the world. But Castiel just shook his head with a soft sad smile, his lips pressed together into a thin line.

“I can’t really explain it…”

“Well, try me,” Dean said, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning even harder as he leaned against the Impala.

Castiel looked around them, and realizing that there weren’t that many people in the school parking lot this early in the morning, sighed, and launched into his story.

“My freshman year, I came to this school as the freak that made weird things happen…I didn’t become the faggot freak until after the fall out that happened with Michael.”

“Michael?”

“He was the quarterback, a Senior…and a closeted gay. We got involved after I got up the guts to send him an anonymous love letter,” Cas laughed bitterly and shook his head, “…Michael figured it out. He cornered me after school, in the band room as I was cleaning up from practice…there was no one else there, and I thought I was going to end up in the hospital, or with a black eye for sure, with the way he shoved me up against that wall…”

Dean bristled, with protective instincts or jealousy, he can’t be sure, as he listened to Castiel talk about this Michael.

“…He asked me if I was the one who wrote him the letter, and I said yes, and shut my eyes, thinking he was going to punch me…instead he kissed me. That was my first kiss Dean… Michael was my first everything.”

“I thought you said you were a virgin, Cas?”

Castiel flushed and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, shrugging as he wrapped his arms around himself, one around his waist, the other around the opposite shoulder.

“I am…,” he said hesitantly, “…but we did…other stuff.”

It was awkward, to say the least, but Dean understood. Michael had been Castiel’s first, which made him important.

“…Did you love him?”

Cas nodded with a soft sigh.

“I did…at least until people found out. We kept it a secret, because most of the people at this school, the football team especially, aren’t exactly gay friendly. But somehow, someone found out. Michael blamed me, even though I didn’t have anyone to tell. That was the end of it, him denying we ever went out, and calling me a faggot stalker in front of the entire cafeteria.”

“What a dick,” Dean said with a frown, crossing his arms over his chest.

Castiel shruged and leaned against the Impala, shoulder to shoulder with Dean.

“…He had a reputation to protect…and I was expendable.”

“…Yeah, like I said…DICK.”

Cas smiled, laughing softly as he looked up at Dean, and Dean had to physically stop himself from wrapping his arms around the other boy then and there, and kissing him until the sad look left Cas’ blue eyes.

Instead, they end up going to their respective classes, and meeting up for lunch behind the dugout of the baseball diamond like usual, the gang all there.

Everyone was talking and chattering, smiling and making jokes, but Dean noticed that Jo wasn’t laughing. Even worse, whenever their eyes met, she quickly looked away. It made Dean uneasy, and by the end of the lunch period, he’d had enough.

“Jo! Hey, wait up!”

Dean jogged toward the leggy blonde, who hadn’t slowed down even a little to let him catch up.

“Jesus woman, slow down.”

“Why Dean?”

“M’tryin’ to talk to you?”

“Okay, talk fast, I have a class to get to,” she said, and Dean could swear the blood in his veins turned to ice just from the chill in her voice.

“…What the hell’s going on? You were quiet all through lunch, and every time we caught eyes, you practically flinched. I’m not that stupid, Jo, I can tell something’s up.”

Jo sighed dramatically and stopped in the doorway of her classroom, woodshop, and turned to glare at Dean.

“…My Mom knows your Dad.”

“…What?”

“I said-“

“I…I heard what you said…what do you mean, your Mom knows my Dad?”

“I mean, my Mom hunts, just like your Dad does. Or she used to. Until my Dad died.”

Dean’s eyes flared wide at that, and he swallowed hard around the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat.

“Shit.”

“Yeah, I’ll say. My Mom wants t’speak to you and Sam when you have some time.”

“Um…okay..yeah, okay…just…let me talk to Sammy about his debate club okay Jo?”

“…Fine. Mom n’me’ll be at the diner late tonight…come by when you can.”

“Okay Jo…,” Dean said, stepping back to let a few impatient wood shop students pass by as Jo nodded, then disappeared inside as well.

‘Shit’, Dean thought to himself as he walked to class, his stomach churning at the idea that someone knew his Dad…and therefore knew him and his brother, and what they did. It made his hunter side itch to grab Sam and run- who knew if Ellen was a friend or not? Dad had never mentioned her…or her husband, in all the years they’d been hunting.

Dean spent the rest of the day in a daze, thinking about what his Dad would say if he was there. But John wasn’t there, and he wasn’t answering his cell phone (which honestly wasn’t that surprising, Dean thought bitterly), so Dean would have to handle this on his own.

Castiel got a ride home with Gabriel that day, the two talking animatedly about a chess game played decades ago by some guy named Fischer something other, so Dean waited for Sam to be done with his debate club in the Impala, alone in the parking lot.

“Hey, loser!”

‘Great’, Dean thought to himself, and rolled his head to look out the window at the figure the grating voice had come from.

“Nice piece of shit, what’s under the hood, a squirrel on a running wheel?” the footballer jeered, the group around him cackling like a backup choir of harpies, and Dean is out of the car in an instant, hands fisted at his sides and ready for battle.

“Dean!”

Sammy. Dean stopped where he stood and glanced over at his lanky brother, who was walking out of one of the side buildings, confusion lacing his expression.

“Hey Sammy, get in the car okay?”

“…Dean, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, just get in the car Sam,” Dean said, his voice carrying all the weight of ‘I’m your big brother and I will kick your ass unless you do as say’ with it.

Dean only turned back to the group of footballers and their lackeys once Sam was safe inside the Impala.

“Lay off, alright? I don’t have a problem with you.”

“Yeah? Well we got a problem with you. You and that faggot freak you hang with,” the boy sneered, his face oddly round, and set squarely on his shoulders.

“Look, no neck, why don’t you and all your idiot lackey friends just crawl back under the ignorant rock you came out of, and leave my brother and Castiel alone, alright?”

The irritated voice came from right behind him, and Dean didn’t know whether he wanted to smack his brother in that moment, or kiss him for his smart ass mouth.

“What?! You little fucker,” no neck snarled, and bean advancing on Sam. It was then that Dean took out his butterfly knife, the metal flashing in the late afternoon sun as he flipped it open and immediately took on a fighting stance.

“You wanna get to him, gotta go through me big guy,” Dean said with a grin, the look in his eyes purposely manic. The group of teens freezes, some taking steps back, others just looking at Dean with wide eyes.

“Well?”

“…Fuck you, you piece of white trash, just like your car!”

“Yeah yeah, go on, keep ‘em coming big boy…got any more intelligent insults or you run the gamut with ‘piece of this descriptor, piece of that descriptor’?” Dean asked, voice dripping sarcasm, and actually got a chuckle out of a few of the lackeys, who then shut their mouths with audible clicks when no neck turned around to glare at them.

“Didn’t think so….go on, run along and play with your football then,” Dean said, flipping the knife away and pocketing it.

The footballer and his group walk away, after a few choice finger gestures, and Dean and Sam get back into the Impala, where the first thing Dean does is smack Sam upside the head.

“Ow! What the hell, Dean?!”

“That was for not listenin’ t’me when I said STAY. IN THE CAR.”

“…geez…sorry,” Sam muttered, frowning as he looks away from Dean.

“…C’mere,” Dean said with a sigh, and hugged his little brother awkwardly, as Sam was already struggling to get away.

“DUDE!”

“WHAT?”

“…not in public, Dean, god.”

“Suck it, bitch, I’ll hug you when I want to.”

“What was that for anyway?”

“….For being a smart ass the one time it’s appropriate,” Dean said with a grin, turning the Impala’s ignition and grinning even wider when she started right up.

“…Thanks, I guess?”

Dean nodded at that, and pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, heading straight for Jo and Ellen’s diner.

“We going out for dinner?”

“Yup.”

“Where?”

“Jo’s Mom’s place. Ellen wants to talk t’us.”

“About what?” Sam asked, eyebrow arched in classic Sam expression.

“….She’s a hunter, Sammy.”

“WHAT?!”

“That’s what I said!”

“Wait, what? How did she know about us?”

“We used our real names, genius.”

“But Dad said it was fine! He cleared the arrest warrants and everything!”

“Yeah, I know Sam, but she knows Dad…or so Jo says, anyway.”

“…Shit.”

“You said it.”

The brothers drive in silence then, each wrapped up in his own mind as the streets fly by, Dean’s driving speedy as always, even on city streets. They get to the diner just after five, and end up having dinner, and then waiting around doing their homework until closing, as Ellen was just too busy serving customers to stop what she was doing to talk to them.

“Hey, boys.”

Dean looked up from his pre-Calc work, economics pushed aside for now, as he couldn’t be bothered with market place theories at the moment. His eyes meet Ellen’s where she’s standing behind the counter, beckoning them over to her.

“C’mon Sammy,” Dean whispered with a sigh, and got up to walk over to Ellen, ducking under the counter to stand a few feet from the middle-aged woman with the serious expression.

“…So Jo told you I know your Daddy, that right?”

“…Yes ma’am.”

“Hey, I’m still Ellen. None of that ma’am nonsense….makes me feel old.”

“…Okay Ellen,” Dean said with a grin, leaning back against the counter and watching her with wary eyes, the smile far too quick in coming to be real. Ellen could tell, and let out a soft sigh.

“Dean…you don’t have to be on guard with me. Your Dad and my husband…they were good friends, until the end.”

“…What happened?” Sam asked, his voice soft as he spoke up from beside Dean. Ellen’s hawk like gaze swiveled to stare at the younger Winchester, and Dean was grateful, if a bit jealous, when it instantly softened as she took in Sam.

“…There was an accident…your Dad…he wasn’t as careful as he should have been on a hunt, and it cost my William his life.”

“…Dad never told us about that…or about you n’ Jo….or William.”

“…I figured Dean. You may not remember, you were maybe two, three years old, but we dropped by after Jo was born. You got to hold her, thought she was the most precious thing in the world.”

Dean grinned at that, even while Jo squeaked from the kitchen ‘Mom!’

“What Joanna? It’s true!”

“Doesn’t mean you gotta tell ‘em! I’ll never live it down!”

“…She’s right y’know, I’m going to tease her with that pretty much daily,” Dean grinned at Jo through the small opening between the front counter and the kitchen area- Jo made a rude gesture with her finger that had her Mother gasping ‘Joanna Beth!’, before letting out a loud laugh that broke the tension.

“…I’m sorry you boys are getting dragged around like this by your Daddy,” Ellen said as she smiled a tight smile at the brothers.

“I’m not!” Dean said, at the same time as Sam sighed out “Me too.” They turned to look at one another, and instantly began talking at the same time, squabbling, over one another as usual.

“I can’t believe you Sammy, sayin’ that about Dad like that-“

“I’m not saying anything about Dad, Dean! Just that I’m tired out being dragged all over the place –“

“Oh, you’re not saying anythin’ about Dad then? What are you saying then huh?”

“Like a doll! It’s not fair that we have to keep changing schools and ripping our lives apart every time-“

“No it’s not fair, but guess what Sammy? Life isn’t fair! We just have to buck up and deal!”

“What?! Are you kidding me!? Buck up and deal? Like Dad dealt with Mom’s death?”

“…That…Sam…too far, dude…that’s just…you don’t remember-“

“No, I don’t Dean…I never got to know her, and it fucking sucks, but chasing some demon isn’t going to bring her back.”

There’s silence for a moment, both of the Winchesters breathing hard, before Dean swallows and stands up straight, nodding gently.

“No…I know that Sam…so does Dad-“

“Does he? Are you sure Dean? Because I don’t know anymore…”

“He knows that Sam! He knows…Dad just… he needs to catch that thing, and make it pay for what it did…”

“…Yeah…okay Dean.”

They both knew it was a lie that their Father wasn’t hoping for more than vengeance…that some small part of him still hoped that killing the demon would somehow bring Mary back, impossible as it sounded.

Ellen stood just a few feet away, watching what the chaotic world that John had brought the brothers up in had done to them…

And she hated the bastard even more or it.

After a few more hours of talking about hunting, the lifestyle, and reminiscing about better days, Ellen shoos Dean and Sam home around 9pm, knowing it was a school night, and that they both needed their rest.

When they got home Sam went to bed almost immediately, but Dean couldn’t sleep, so he ended up staying up, texting with Cas.

Dean: I miss you.

Cas: You just saw me Dean.

Dean: I know. Still miss you.

Cas: What about me?

Dean: Your lips.

Cas: Perv.

Dean: It’s not my fault your mouth is so pretty dude!

Cas: Too bad you’re over there, and not right here.

Dean: Whys that?

Cas: I could show you what my pretty mouth could do.

Dean: Give me ten minutes ;)

Cas: Dean I was joking!

It was too late though, and 13 minutes later, there was a soft taping on Castiel’s window, and he opened it to discover Dean, standing outside in the cold March air.

“Dean!” Castiel hissed, and sighed as he shook his head, moving back to let Dean inside. Dean managed to make it inside with breaking anything, which was a miracle in and of itself, and only tracked half the garden in on his boots, much to Castiel’s dismay.

“I’m going to have to clean that tomorrow, before my Mom sees,” he whispered, knowing that while the TV was loud, it wasn’t loud enough to mask everything.

“…I’ll be more careful next time,” Dean whispered back, grinning as he slipped off his boots and coat, pushing Castiel back onto his bed. Castiel smiled up at his boyfriend, reaching out to pull Dean down on top of him, shivering from the cold air that they let in through the window.

“Good…if you’re going to make this a ‘thing’, we’ll have to figure out a better way to go about it,” Castiel says, voice soft and hitched as Dean kissed down his neck.

“Mmm,” Dean agreed with a gentle rumble, before ending the whole discussion by kissing Castiel deep, laying his body out on top of the other boy’s and slowly starting up a smooth grind.

It doesn’t take long, both of them teenagers with sex drives through the roof, before they’re panting and arching into one another, Dean groaning soft against Cas’ neck, Cas’ hands wild as they race over Dean’s body.

“…W…what was that….about your…p-pretty mouth, Cas?” Dean panted, his voice soft as possible. Cas looks up at that, eyes lust glazed, pupil blown wide and black, bare ring of blue iris showing around the edge.

“…God yes,” he croaked, and shifted them in the bed so Dean was on his back, nimble instrument playing fingers making quick work of Dean’s button fly jeans. It’s an awkward shift, but soon Cas has Dean’s pants and boxers down Dean’s thighs just far enough to fear the freckled teen’s cock, hard and curved toward his stomach, thick with racing blood.

“…holy crap,” Cas whispered, eyes wide as he stared at Dean, making his boyfriend figet.

“What?”

“You’re…sorry, you’re just bigger…than Michael was,” Castel managed to get out, eyes darting up to look at Dean in the dim light of his bedroom. Dean can only grin at that, feeling pleased at that new information, and flexes his muscles just right so his dick bounced in unison with his eyebrows, waggling at Cas, which only helped to make the dark haired boy blush and giggle, a hand slapped over his mouth to silence himself.

“Dean,” Castiel warned, “you want me to do this or not?”

“..Yes…god yes, please, Cas…,” Dean whispered, and immediately quit his antics, much to Castiel’s relief.

Cas gathered himself, having not done this in three years, and then crouch between Dean’s spread legs, leaning down to breathe hot air over Dean’s length.

“Mmm,” Dean grunted, biting his lower lip to silence himself.

“Shhh,” Cas warned again, but he smiled all the same.

He started off slow, one hand wrapping around the base of Dean’s cock, the other stabilizing himself, and keeping Dean’s hips firm on the bed, gripping the edge of hip bone that stuck out slightly there. They’d found out the hard way that Dean bucked a lot when coming, and it had been awkward for Cas to lose control of Dean’s dick when it had been in the middle of spurting it’s load- all over the sheets. So, as a precaution, Cas kept one hand firmly on Dean’s hipbone ever since, and it seemed to work out well.

He leaned down and licked a lazy strip up the underside, from root to tip, then swirled his tongue around the head, eyes flicking up to look into Dean’s, which made the other teen swallow hard, his own mouth filling with saliva, almost in sympathy of what Cas was about to do.

Castiel took his time though, kissing and licking around the base up to the tip, and back down again, following along with his hand in lazy long strokes, until Dean was whimpering with it, the need for more.

“l-…Cas…please,” Dean begged, his hips rolling up as much as Cas would let him.

“MMm…,” Cas replied, his mouth slipping over the tip of Dean’s cock, then down a bit, lips carefully covering his teeth as he slid his mouth down. Dean groaned soft, biting his lower lip to quiet himself down once again.

Castiel backed up and wet his lips, then leaned in and did it again, tongue swirling along the underside, pressing flat against the fat vein that ran the length of Dean’s cock, his hand sliding up to meet his lips when he got as far down Dean’s length as he could. Each movement he made, every soft moan vibrated up Dean’s dick, sending a wave of pleasure through his body. He arched up toward the wet heat surrounding him, relishing not only the feelings, the pleasure, but the fact that this was Castiel (CAS, his best friend) doing this to him.

They were in Cas’ bedroom, being as quiet as they could, because any moment his Mom could walk down the hallway and catch them, but Dean couldn’t care less about any of that- he was completely wrapped up in how eager Cas seemed, how hard he was working to bring Dean pleasure.

“Fuuuuuck,” Dean moaned, biting back the long groan that wants to escape.

“…feels so good Cas,” he whispered, and let one of his hands slide down and into Cas’ dark hair, tangling around the tresses and feeling each movement of the other teen’s head, every time Cas swallowed around his cock, throat muscles fluttering and tightening, making Dean jump slightly, a surprised ‘Oh!’ breaking out of his mouth.

Castiel worked his mouth up and down Dean’s length with speed now, hand following along just behind his lips, twisting on the up stroke just a little, and Dean would later wonder how the hell Cas knew to do this, but in the moment was too caught up in godperfectmorefuckhottightCAS.

“Cas…b-baby,” he croaked, voice as soft as he could make it, “g…gonna come…”

The warning is just in time, letting Cas back away just enough so that Dean’s release happens in his mouth, instead of the back of his throat. Castiel looked up at Dean, and when Dean locks eyes on his boyfriend, blue almost glowing in the dark, he can’t help but let go.

It’s stronger than anything he’d ever felt before, and he bucks under Castiel’s hold, the other boy having to clench his hand down to keep Dean pinned to the bed, as Dean arched and rolled with the orgasm- his vision whiting out, stars flaring in front of his eyes, and it’s all he can do not to cry out, and to only let out harsh panted, stuttering breathes, each wave of the orgasm another thrust, another arch of his hips.

“f..fuck,” he whispered, his body shaking from the intensity of it all, as he came down from the high. Castiel swallowed, throat and mouth working around Dean’s hyper-sensitive dick and making him wince, whimper from it.

“S..sorry Dean,” Cas whispered, and his voice was even deeper than usual, raw and fucked out. Dean grinned at that, and yanked Cas up for a deep kiss, tasting himself on the back of the other boy’s tongue- salty and bitter, and Dean made a mental note to eat more raw pineapple, because that was supposed to help wasn’t it?

The thought is interrupted though, when he feels something warm and wet slid over his hip, and Castiel lets out a soft sigh against Dean’s lips.

“…Baby?”

“…Think you could return the favor, Dean?” Cas asked, gnawing on his lower lip nervously.

“…I think that can be arranged, Cas,” Dean drawled, smirk drawing over his lips. He rolled them over so he was straddling Castiel, wanting to kiss him until the only taste left in Cas’ mouth was pure Cas.

“…I’ve…Michael never reciprocated….you’re my first, to....to do this,” Cas whispered, a flush staining his cheeks. Dean’s eyebrows shot up at that, and he smirked even harder.

“…Yeah, like I said-“

“Dick, yeah, I know Dean,” Cas sighed.

“…You’ve got a nice one, y’know,” Dean pointed out, his callused hand taking Cas out of his boxers gently.

“A….t..thank you,Dean,” Castiel mumbled, suddenly shy.

“…I’m glad I’m the first,” Dean whispered, his lips brushed the tip of Cas’ cock, precome beading and smearing over plush lips. Castiel’s breath hitched in his throat, and as he whispered back ‘Me too’, he gave in, and surrendered completely to Dean, letting the other teen fully take over.

Before the night is over, and Dean goes home around 1am, Castiel comes twice by Dean’s hand and mouth, and he’s no longer bitter than Michael never gave back. Dean was worth the wait in his mind.


	10. Chapter 10

Dean thinks that he’s doing a good job, hiding his attraction to Castiel, their relationship from both their friends, and the world at large. He thinks his staring goes un-noticed by the masses, and that no one really puts two and two together when both he and Cas show up to school with hickies after spending the weekend together at Dean’s house, when Cas’ Mom goes away on another work trip.

He’s wrong, on all accounts.

Dean and Cas have only been together almost a month when it happens, the first fight either of them have been in since Dean’s first day. Castiel ends up cornered in the locker room after his gym class, and Dean gets there much, much too late.

Castiel is sitting in the corner of the shower, his clothes, backpack, and towel left under a stream of boiling hot water nearby. He’s sobbing, and Dean feels like his heart has been wrenched from his chest as he drops his bag at his feet, and bolts across the empty locker room to Castiel’s side, kneeling beside him and ignoring the puddle of water that instantly soaks the knees of his jeans.

When Dean touches him, Castiel jerks, flinches away from his touch and cries out, curling up into an even tighter ball.

The tiny whimper of “Oh god, please no more…,” only serves to make Dean slump further, let out a small broken sound at the blood on Castiel’s fingers, which clench in his own hair, the bruises already blooming along lean legs and ribs.

“Cas?” he croaks, voice cracking on the one syllable.

Castel’s head shoots up at that, and Dean loses his breath, it hitches, stuck in his throat.

Castiel’s beautiful, pale face is mangled, bruised and bloody, a split lip and possibly a broken nose, matching black eyes and a cut on his forehead all painted in bright red smeared blood.

“JESUS,” he finally gets out, and Castiel’s face crumples, all semblance of control out the window in the face of the one person he trusts most in this word.

Castiel crawls into Dean’s lap and sobs, sobs until he can’t anymore, until the gym teacher comes and finds them, tries to help Castiel up only to have Dean all but snap his hand off.

“DON’T TOUCH HIM!”

The man pulls back, nodding slowly, before going to get the first aid kit. Dean slowly picks Castiel up, wrapping him in the towel the teacher had brought, and follows the man into his office. The lighting in the small room, bright and fluorescent, only serves to bring more injuries out, more bruises and tiny cuts, every one making Dean wince in sympathy…especially when they start cleaning Cas up.

“You’re lucky,” the teacher intones, his voice not unkind, gentle even, as he dabs antiseptic on yet another cut.

“Yeah, and why’s that?” Dean practically snarls, his eyes narrowed at the man, one arm still around Castiel protectively.

The balding man, paunchy around the middle, dressed in plain gray sweats and a burgundy headband, sighs before turning to Dean. His eyes betray something Dean never thought he’d see in any of the teachers in this school- understanding.

“…He’s lucky first off, because there’s no broken bones, no missing teeth…just a lot of bruising and minor cuts. None of these will even need stitches.”

Castiel makes a small resigned sound, a sigh, maybe of relief, but Dean can’t tell. He looks away from his boyfriend back at the teacher.

“And?”

“…And because he has you now. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen Castiel get beat up… I don’t allow that kind of crap in my locker rooms, and I’ve stopped it before. I’m just sorry I wasn’t there this time,” he says gruffly, voice stern.

“…It’s not your fault…,” Castiel says, his voice small, but when he looks up at the teacher, both eyes almost swollen shut, Dean sees a flicker there, of gratitude.

“Thank you.”

“…You’re welcome kid…Now, Winchester, right? You take him home. Ice, pain killers, the works….and Castiel?…I have to make a report on this. Do you want to name the punks who did this?”

Castiel shakes his head vehemently, then thinks better of it and groans, slumping over to lean against Dean, who looks sick at the sight.

“…Alright..if you change your mind, you let me know alright?”

“..Yes’sir…,” Cas murmurs, clinging to Dean’s shirt.

“Okay…here’s some lost and found stuff, it’s been washed, kept as emergency clothes…I think this qualifies. Dean, you find something for him to wear home, I’m going to go check you both out for the day, and file that report.”

“Thank you,” Dean says, wonder in his eyes as the teacher hands him a box filled with jeans, t-shirts, sweat pants and more. The man grunts.

“It’s my job…and my pleasure. Those little pricks pick on anyone not like them…I was like that once. It’s how I ended up here, instead of doing what I really wanted with my life,” the teacher responds, then chuckles sadly. “Turns out, I get to deal with shit heads every damn day, just like I used to be. Fitting, in a karmic way. Alright, get going, and I’ll see you tomorrow if you’re feeling up to it kid.”

The man leaves, and Dean suddenly feels a little less alone in the vastness that was his high school. He helps Castiel dress slowly, slipping on sweat pants and an oversized sweater, before carrying the boy out to the student parking lot, and the Impala.

Dean texts Sam the situation, explaining that he’d come pick Sam up if he couldn’t catch a ride with a friend after school, but for now he was taking Castiel home.

Cas is quiet on the ride home, only murmuring a soft thank you against Dean’s chest as the other teen gathers him close, ignoring safety belt laws for once to keep Castiel next to him.

It doesn’t take long for him to drive to Castiel’s house, figuring the other boy would be more comfortable there, than anywhere else. They get inside, and Dean puts Cas to bed, only leaving to grab Advil and a few ice packs wrapped in towels for Castiel, but by the time he gets back, Cas is asleep. Dean sighs, and sets everything on the side table, before curling up around his best friend, his lover, and wrapping an arm around Castiel’s waist.

It’s night time when Dean wakes up, and at first he’s not sure what woke him, until he here’s the whispers in the hallway.

“…So, you’re telling me that Castiel, my son…is dating his best friend?”

“…Yes ma’am.”

“Your older brother?”

“…Yes ma’am.”

“Clara! It’s Clara, Sam…just call me Clara.”

“Okay,…I’m sorry Clara….I didn’t…I didn’t want to stay home alone…and I knew I’d have to explain why Dean was here, and why they were like that once you got home…”

There’s a soft sigh, and Dean tenses for a second, straining to hear more. Clara’s voice is gentle when she speaks again.

“Sam….I’m not mad at them, honey…not for the reasons you think. If I had known that they were dating, they would have been free to stay the night at your house as much as the wanted… and here, of course. I’m not a bigot. I think Castiel’s life would be much easier if he was straight, if he was dating a girl, instead of a boy…but I would never begrudge him anything that brought him happiness…not the kind of happiness Dean brings him.”

Sam’s quiet for a moment, and when he speaks it nearly breaks Dean’s heart.

“…I wish you were my Mom,” Sam whispers, something so broken and sad about his words and tone, that there’s two quick footsteps, and then the rustle of clothing, and Dean realizes when Clara speaks that she’d hugged his brother.

“Sammy, honey, you feel free to come over here whenever you want…I can’t replace your Mother…Mary was a fine, beautiful woman, and a wonderful soul…but I’ll do my best to be your friend, okay?”

“….m’kay,” Sam murmurs after a moment, and Dean buries his face in the back of Castiel’s neck, hot tears spilling over. He’d have to thank Clara when he got up in a moment…once he was done crying.

The last thing he needed was for anyone else to see him cry. Especially Sammy.

~

Clara looks up from fixing dinner, mixing ground beef around in a skillet, the smell of spices heavy in the air, when Dean walks into the doorway.

She lights up, smiling broad at the teenager, his mussed hair and clothes only serving to make him that much more adorable.

“Good evening Dean, you sleep well?” She says, one eyebrow arching as the corner of her lip turns up. Dean turns an embarrassing shade of pink and clears his throat.

“Clara, I swear t’god I wanted to tell you, but Cas-“

“Save it Dean…you don’t have to justify your actions, or, inaction as the case may be, to me, alright?…I’m just glad that of all the useless men out there…Castel managed to find you, honey,” she says, and reaches out to pat his cheek now that he’d wandered close enough to reach. Dean lets his lips curl up as well in a matching smile.

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Sure…chop the lettuce and tomatoes up, would you? Knives are in the far left drawer…,” she trails off, chuckling as Dean had already been headed in that direction. She’d forgotten how much time the Winchesters had spent at their house in the last two months. Clara had forgotten how much she’d enjoyed having a full house.

They chop and cook and mix in silence, and eventually tacos are formed out of the mess they made, and Sam comes wandering into the kitchen, his stomach growling, reeled in by the smells that had been wafting through the small house.

“Is that dinner?” he asks, eyes wide at the feast that Dean and Clara had prepared, laid out on the table.

“Yup, sit your little butt down, Sam, and Dean? Go grab Castiel. I want to take a look at those cuts of his, and he needs to eat something and take some Advil if you weren’t able to get him to earlier.”

“Okay Clara.”

Dean walks down the hall to Castiel’s room and opens the door without knocking, not thinking anything of it, until he stops in his tracks, confronted with the sight of a fully naked Castiel standing in front of him, bathed in dim moonlight from the window.

It wasn’t the first time that Dean had seen Castiel naked-but this was, however, the first time Castiel had made a small surprised sound, and immediately hid his body from Dean.

Dean frowns, and gently shuts the door before walking over to sit beside Cas.

“Dude, what’s up?”

“…N-nothing..you just surprised me….that’s all,” he says, licking his lips nervously and refusing to meet Dean’s eyes. Dean snorts and fixes Castiel with a look that speaks volumes.

“Right, and I’ve got double D tits!”

Castiel frowns at Dean and rolls over in the bed, the darkness of the room making it hard for Dean to really see his expression. He sighs and reaches out, flipping on the bedside lamp, and Castiel immediately hides himself under the covers…which Dean promptly rips off of him.

“DEAN!” Castiel shrieks.

“CAS!” Dean shrieks back, only to make a loud OOF sound when Cas hits him with a pillow, before yanking the sheets back over himself…but not before Dean catches a glimpse of what Castiel is hiding.

“…Cas?”

“…No, Dean…don’t….Please?” he begs, and Dean almost listens, Castiel sounds that pathetic.

“…Dude…,” he coaxes, and this time gently pries the sheets back, up and off of Castiel’s face. Dean’s eyes flare wide with shock at what he sees.

Castiel’s face is nearly healed. His scratches had faded to dull red lines, the bruising that only hours ago had swollen his eyes shut was almost nonexistent. Castiel looked like he’d been in a fight not earlier that very day…but two, three weeks ago

“What the fuck?” Dean breathes, shock stilling him into not moving as Castiel slowly sits up, having the decency to look embarrassed that he was virtually bruise free after having been beaten not half a day ago.

“…This is what I didn’t want you to see,” Castiel says slowly, frowning softly as he trails a finger down the almost healed cut on his arm.

“…I’m a freak…just like they said.”

Dean’s mind roars back into action, no longer frozen by his own surprise.

“What? NO, no Cas, you’re not a freak!”

Castiel sputters, laughing a humorless laugh in Dean’s face.

“Really?! Because I’m beginning to think they’re right, Dean. What kind of man can heal like this?” he says, his tone caught between being scared, and disgusted at himself.

“…A lucky one? Jesus Cas, if I could heal like that-“

“What? You’d go be in a circus, charge money for it? Step right up, see the amazing healing FREAK.” Castiel’s tone is bitter, and Dean pales, mouth snapping shut, having never heard the other boy be this pessimistic; not since the first day they met. Was this how Castiel had been, before Dean showed up?

Dean winces, looking away, and frown softly.

“That’s not what I was gonna say, Cas,” he mutters, looking away from his boyfriend. The embarrassed tone in his voice gives Castiel pause, and the smaller boy sighs delicately, then crawls out from underneath the sheet, and into Dean’s lap, straddling him and wrapping his arms loosely around Dean’s shoulders.

“…Do you know why I love you Dean?” Castiel asks.

Dean blinks, looking up into bright blue eyes, shining with affection.

“No…wait….did you just say you loved me?”

Castiel flushes and nods quickly, then holds up a hand and covers Dean’s mouth, a soft laugh escaping his lips as the corners of his eyes wrinkle when he smiles.

“Let me finish Dean,” he admonishes softly, and Dean nods, eyes wide, before Castiel removes his hand.

“…I love you because you don’t see me like they do. You see this..this thing I have, as a gift, even on days when I struggle to. You treat me like I’m human…,” Cas says, his fingertips tracing over Dean’s cheekbones, brushing through closed eyelashes.

“You make me feel like the most important…the luckiest person, alive.”

Dean cracks a smile.

“Well, you are, y’know- ow!” Cas smirks, hand held up from where he’d smacked Dean in the arm.

“Can’t let your ego run off with you now can I, Dean Winchester?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

Dean grins and kisses Castiel gently, all the worries, the questions, the red flags about Castiel’s mysterious healing shoved to the back of his mind, his attention otherwise occupied.

“..I love you too, you know…,” he mumurs against Castiel’s lips.

Castiel hums softly and sighs.

“I know…it is nice to hear it though, Dean.”

They kiss again, softly, but someone- neither can pinpoint who, deepens it. Soon, they’re bare chested and pressed together, Castiel whimpering Dean sucks a mark onto his neck, a bruise the dark haired boy is more than happy to have.

“Hey guys, Clara wants to know what’s taking so- AGHH MY EYES!”

Dean chuckles against Castiel’s neck, Castiel flushes, and Sam vows to never again walk into one of their rooms without knocking.

And Clara buys Castiel a lock for his door the very next day, much to everyone’s relief.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LONG chapter. Hope it's worth it :D

The next day, a Friday, Clara insists on all three boys taking off, despite Sam’s whining and pleading that he was going to miss an exam. She calls the school, excusing them for the day, and they take a road trip in her beat up station wagon to the Mark Twain National Forest. The trunk is packed full of coolers of sodas and sandwiches, sleeping bags and tents, and other camping odds and ends. Clara drives like a demon as they leave their neighborhood and head out on the highway to get to the park, Dean grinning ear to ear, while Castiel and Sam held on for dear life.

Sam is in the front seat keeping the radio on actual music instead of commercials(or what Clara calls music. Dean refers to it as ‘sleepy time music masquerading as rock n’ roll, which brings him a glare from Clara in the rear view mirror). Dean and Cas are in the backseat, playing poker, until Cas gets bored and they end up playing Go Fish instead. Cas wins all seven times. Dean gives up and scowls out the window, until a cool hand slides into his, and while neither of them says anything, they both feel better when they’re touching the other even if it’s just a little bit.

The drive to the forest is supposed to take 4 hours, so about half where there, they stop in a town called Columbia, at a drive-in called Mugs-up. Dean is practically drooling on himself as he scrabbles out of the car, the smell of burgers and fries calling to him, sandwiches in the cooler long forgotten.

Clara sighs, realizing that what she’d hoped would be a quick rest stop for a little stretch and maybe a coke or two (a woman needs her caffeine okay?) was going to turn into fast food heaven for the teenagers, and another inch to her thighs.

It was easy to give in though, when Sammy threw out the puppy dog eyes after realizing they made Neapolitan milkshakes, and Castiel pointed out mozzarella sticks on the menu- one of Clara’s own favorites.

$30 and a pound or so of greasy food each, they were back on the road, satiated and a little bloated…but happy.

Dean managed to get Sam to change the station on the radio, and the rest of the drive was spent in off key paradise, everyone chiming in when Pour Some Sugar on Me came on.

_“Pour some sugar on me- ooh, in the name of lo-oveee, Pour some sugar on meee, c’mon fire me u-up!”_

Dean even gets Castiel to giggle as he plays out the whole song with hand movements and dance moves that, while not illegal, Castiel thought probably should be. Dean could kill with how hot he was…or possibly just melt icebergs with his million watt smile as he looks at Cas across the back seat, waggling his eyebrows at his boyfriend.

They get to the park a little after 2pm, and everyone is silent as they pull off the main road and into the forest, the large wooden sign on the right having been freshly painted, bright yellow letters declaring them at their destination. Dean snorts, thinking to himself that the sign looked like something out of the Flintstones, large with all awkward angles and rounded edges.

Castiel is too busy rolling his window down to breathe in the air- it was crisp, earthy rot that comes from a forest of pine needles and other decaying organic matter, covered over with the fresh scent of damp earth and greenery. Castiel smiles as he rests his arms, one on top of the other, on the bottom edge of the window, leaning out and letting the cool Spring breeze ruffle his hair.

Sam is jittery, excited after Clara had spent twenty minutes early in the ride convincing him to come along, as there was a lot to see and learn in the forest. There was a learning center that was dedicated to science, nature, and a healthy portion of history. Sam was itching, fidgeting in the front seat with the need to get his hands on as much knowledge as possible…and maybe go on a hike or two, if he had time.

It takes them over another half an hour of driving along lazily winding roads before they get to the visitor center, and by then all three teenagers have to pee, desperately. Clara smirks to herself, a little smug at having used the restroom earlier in the day when they’d stopped for lunch, before going and purchasing their weekend passes to camp, and getting a map of how to get to the campgrounds. She tucks it away, and then waits for the boys to get back from the bathroom, her heart swelling when she sees them come back out, Dean’s arm slung around Castiel’s shoulder, casual and friendly, except for the blush on both of their cheeks. Sam heads up the rear of the trio, rolling his eyes so hard at the pair that Clara was surprised they didn’t pop out of his shaggy little head.

“Alright boys, we have passes for the weekend, directions to the nearest town for supplies, and to our campground for set up later tonight…,” she says, hands on her hips as she looks around the gorgeous area, towering trees as far as the eye can see.

“…soooooo, what would you like to do first?”

“Learning center!” Sam shouts out, eager little face beaming.

“Ew, no way dude, I vote fishing!” Dean makes a face at his brother and Sam shoves him, frowning.

“Bird watching, if we could?” Castiel points out, smiling tentatively.

Clara’s smile just grows wider as she watches them bicker with one another, getting louder and louder until she finally just whistles, fingers stuck in her mouth, and all three boys turn around with wide eyes.

“…That’s better. Now…the learning center is a good idea…it’ll be more packed on Saturday and Sunday than it will be today.”

Dean groans, but straightens up out of his disappointed slump when Carla shoots a glare his way.

“Lead the way Sam.”

Sam beams ear to ear, and with his brother finally looking so happy, Dean can’t begrudge the little genius some knowledge time.

Until, three hours later, they’re. Still. There.

Dean calls it quits finally, dragging Sam out by the back of his jacket, and Clara can’t help but share a look with Cas that speaks of how fond they are of the Winchesters…rowdy and loud as they may be from time to time.

They drive to a particularly beautiful turn off point half way to their campground, and break out the sandwiches for dinner. The sun sets as Dean and Cas sit together on the tail gate of the station wagon, Clara and Sam playing uno from a set she’d brought with them inside.

“Dean…?”

“Hmm? What’s up Cas?”

“…Nothing…really, just…thank you, for being here. For…for not running off when you saw…you know…”

Dean looks sidelong at Cas and lets his lips crack into a smile around the rim of his soda can.

“Dork.”

“Hey! Shut up…”

“…I love you,” Dean whispers when he leans in to kiss Castiel’s cheek. Castiel bites his lower lip, but it does nothing to hide the smile twitching in the corners of his lips from Dean.

“…And just cuz you’ve got some kind of strangely accelerated healing doesn’t mean nothin’ Cas.”

Castiel is still for a second, and then nods silently, leaning close and resting his head on Dean’s shoulder. They eat together and just enjoy the setting sun filtering through the trees, the breeze gently rustling through the evergreens above them.

Once the food was gone and the temperature dropped, Clara guides the boys back into the car, and sets off for the campground. It takes them another hour to get there, but thankfully once they arrive, it only takes another ten minutes to set up the tents. Despite Dean’s suggestion that he and Cas share a tent, Dean ends up in one tent with his brother, and Clara and Cas end up sharing the other, much to the disappointment of both of the older teens (and much to Sam’s amusement…because anything that irritated Dean was at least mildly amusing).

Cas and Dean kiss chastely goodnight, with Clara in the background ‘awing’ and Sam on the other side making retching sounds. They get twin glares from the love birds, before Dean chases a shrieking Sam into their shared tent, and Castiel sighs before joining his Mother in theirs.

The night is long, and there are easily a dozen times that Dean wakes up to his little brother shaking him, hissing at him that ‘there’s something out there Dean!’ Dean sighs after the 10th time, and finally gets up out of his incredibly warm, comfortable sleeping bag, before leaving the tent to investigate. Sam stays behind, huddled in the entrance, looking much the part of a decapitated head poking out of the zippered shut sleeping bag he’d buried himself back inside. Dean smirks, not for the first time since their Dad had left them almost 2 months ago on their own, wishing that he was there for back up. Sammy always had Dean to look after him, to protect him…but Dean?

Dean didn’t really have anyone but himself.

He straightens up, looking around in the dim morning light, the air thick with moisture, landing heavy on his skin and eyelashes. He would have to wake Cas up to see this, how the world seemed to stand still in the silence around them, how everything seemed so peaceful it was almost unreal.

Something makes an echoing snapping sound to his left, and Dean’s entire body tenses as he turns his head to look- only to be confronted with a deer. He snorts and rolls his eyes, looking over at Sam and beckoning him out of the tent.

“Look Sammy…there’s your ‘something’. It’s Bambi.”

Sam scuttles over, wide eyed and heavy limbed, wrapping himself up in Dean’s jacket- of course this sends a measure of pride winding its way to Dean’s heart, which threatens to burst out of his chest with how big it’s swelled. He smiles to himself and wraps an arm around his lanky kid brother, and together they watch the deer, and her twin babies, all spindly legs and shaky steps, walk through the woods around them until they disappear through the copse of trees on the other side.

Neither brother notices the trees above them move, branches bending slowly in succession, as the thing that had been watching them all night swiftly moves away as the sun rises in the east.

~

Once Clara and Castiel wake up, they spend the next few hours lighting a fire and making coffee, unwrapping pastries that Dean and Cas had taken the car to go get while Sammy lit the fire, cursing the flint stone until Clara handed over a lighter with a smirk.

They eat around the fire, chattering and talking about what they’d do today, arguing about bird watching versus fishing.

“But morning is the best time to watch birds Dean…”

“Yeah, it’s the best time to fish too!”

“On the contrary, early morning or early evening would be the best times, as the fish come to the surface of the water when the mosquitos come out…” Castiel says, looking just a little too smug about it for Dean’s taste. Dean squints at him, and then sighs.

“Fine…we’ll go bird watchin’,” he grumbles, and Castiel grins at him, and Dean’s annoyance vanishes as swiftly as the morning mist had, under the brilliance of Castiel’s smile. ‘Damn him and his gorgeous face,’ Dean thinks, but just gets up and changes clothes in his tent, poking Sam to get moving as well.

“You know Dean, I think I’m just going to stay here with Clara…catch up on my reading.”

“What? No dude, this is like a mini vacation! You have to have FUN, and that means _no homework!_ ”

“It’s not homework!” Sam shoots back, thrusting the book in Dean’s face, the title in bold letters, about a wood of Duct or something.

Dean scoffs and arches a brow.

“Only you would actually read for fun while on vacation.”

“Oh, shut up Dean…just go have fun with you boyfriend, alright?”

Dean shrugs as he pulls on his boots.

“Okay…suit yourself…but don’t think I’m gonna share any of the fish I catch with your lazy ass.”

Dean and Castiel grab snacks, water and bug repellant and stuff a backpack full, which Dean carries, and they head out along one of the trails. Castiel smiles and speaks a mile a minute about all the different species of birds they were going to see, hands animated as he describes each species he was excited to spot. Sam watches them go, then takes his book and relaxes back into one of the chairs that Clara had brought, the pair of them both just leaning back to read while they had a bit of peace and quiet with Dean and Castiel off on an adventure.

-

“Dean look!” Castiel whispered, pointing up into a tree nearby. Dean blinked and narrowed his eyes, then let out a surprised laugh. There, perched low on a branch just five feet above their heads, was a hawk with gorgeous red eyes and a speckled breast.

“Wow…what is it Cas?”

“Um…I think it’s a shark shinned hawk…but it could be a Cooper’s hawk…hard to tell really…,” Castiel mutters, flushing slightly as Dean elbows him.

“Hey, that’s pretty cool man…you know your stuff.”

Castiel flushes even deeper and shoves Dean back, continuing along the trail. They walk for hours, talking in quiet tones, stopping only to drink from their water bottle, or when they spot other animals. Castiel is fascinated when they spy a rabbit, who stops, scared into stillness, less than four feet from them.

“It’s so adorable,” he whispers, and Dean can’t help but smile at the gentle look on Castiel’s face.

He was dating a big softie. Dean wraps his arms around Castiel’s waist and pulls the other boy back against him, kissing along his neck as Castiel hums at the attention.

“Mmm…”

“You’re adorable…,” he says, and turns his boyfriend’s head to kiss him on the lips, the pair quickly getting lost in the moment. A loud crack from the right stops Dean and he yanks away, looking over just in time to see something dark slip between two trees and disappear from sight.

“…Hey?…Is someone out there?!” Dean yells hesitantly, hair bristling on the back of his neck.

Castiel’s hands cling to Dean’s shirt, fisted around the fabric, his voice low and tight when he speaks.

“Dean?…What is it?” Cas whispers, eyes darting amongst the trees Dean was busy staring at.

“…Nuthin’,” Dean mutters, “….nuthin’ Cas, just…thought I saw something….let’s go…”

He takes Castiel’s hand in his and leads the way on, through the forest, being guided by the trail. Dean doesn’t miss the clawed marks on the trees, up high, easily 8, 9 feet from the ground.

“Bear marks?” Castiel asks, breaking Dean from his trance as he stares at them, feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Dean swallows hard and smiles, but it’s forced and Castiel can tell.

“Yeah Cas…bears,…uh…probably…let’s um, keep going huh?”

“…Okay Dean.”

Dean holds Castiel’s hand in his, and Castiel can’t help but feel protected…loved and cherished from how Dean was alert and constantly seeming to put himself in front, guiding Cas through the forest as if everything was a threat and he had to keep Castiel safe at all costs.

While it was adorable, Castiel had to roll his eyes when Dean threw an arm out to stop Castiel when a squabbling pair of wild turkeys ran past.

“Dean, I don’t think anything in this forest is going to hurt us, really. Maybe a few ticks, but I think we’ll be fine.”

Dean grumbles and walks on, ignoring Castiel’s gentle laughter behind him, in favor of counting the claw marks on the trees nearby…and the footprints in the mud that Castiel obviously didn’t see as they were walking past.

The very human like footprints.

-

They break for lunch a little after noon at the edge of a clearing that lead toward the nearby river, which was more a stream with how little rain they’d gotten thus far in the Spring. Castiel chooses a large flat area with a felled tree, and together they break out their chips and sandwiches, Castiel digging into the red vines even as Dean opened their packet of beef jerky.

“So, that enough bird watchin’ for you Cas?”

Castiel nods quietly around his mouthful of sugary goodness, and Dean grins. “Good…because I think we should head over to that fishing shop…Clara said it was like two miles down the road from the grocery store we went to this mornin’.”

“Dean, that’s a bit far from here…it was five miles from our camp to the store.”

“I know, Cas…that’s why I’ve been leading us on a trail that lead toward the road. If that map I saw in the store was right, we’re only like 3 miles or so from the fishin’ store.”

Castiel arches a brow.

“Are you sure?”

Dean grins. “Would I lie t’you Cas?”

Castiel purses his lips and looks over at Dean out of the corner of his eyes.

“Hey!” Dean sputters.

“I’m kidding Dean!” Castiel says with a grin on his face.

“…You’ve been hangin’ out with Sammy too much…,” he grumbles, and then gnaws on a chunk of beef jerky as Castiel giggles before leaning over to kiss Dean on the cheek.

“..Love you,” he says with his lips brushing against Dean’s cheek, the very hint of stubble catching the delicate skin there.

“Mm,” Dean murmurs, leaning his head so their foreheads press together.

“You better.”

-

The walk to the fishing supply store takes them another hour, with random detours to see this flower, or that cool tree, and by the time they get there Dean is convinced Castiel’s spirit animal is an ADD squirrel; every time they got back on track, Castiel would see something else he’d have to stop and look at.

Dean finds he can’t even stay annoyed, it was just too endearing seeing Castiel’s face light up at the multitudes of living things surrounding them. Having grown up on the road, constantly living out of a duffel bag, and trekking across mountains and marshlands and cities alike, Dean was more than happy to never see another mosquito or black widow if he lived to be a million years old.

But Castiel? Castiel seemed fascinated by even the tiniest ant; though when they came across a common garden snake, he did freak out a little bit and cling to Dean, who stood stock still as it slithered on past. Castiel smiles up at Dean at that, glad to have someone who was so calm in the face of something, admittedly only a little, scary.

Dean was too embarrassed to tell Castiel that he was frozen out of fear, not instinct.

They cross the small two lane road after exiting the dense woods, grinning at one another for having made it in one piece, with only a small amount of foliage in their hair. The fishing store was empty except for a skinny limbed man with a beer belly, who grunted in greeting as they came in the door, the bell attached to the swinging door jingling to signal their entrance.

“What kun I do yah for?” The man drawled, and snorted a breath inward that sounded like his sinuses had never been clear a day in his life.

Castiel refrained from making a face, even if Dean’s lips gave them both away with the slight upward curl.

“Um, we’re camping at the campgrounds near here-“

“Staying in Mark Twain huh?”

Dean nods and clears his throat.

“Yeah, we are. We’re just going to be fishing today, was wondering if you rented out poles?”

The man squints at Dean, eyeing him up and down as if assessing his worth, before snorting again and then nodding.

“Sure do…this way boy…,” the man said as he got up off his stool from behind the counter, the glass covering it hazy with years upon years of scratches, and less cleaning than it probably needed.

The teenagers are led over to a wall where there was a line up of fishing poles, ranging from beginner’s poles with a simple reels and cork handles, on up to expensive looking poles that had things even Dean couldn’t identify. The man gestures for them to take their pick, so Dean grabs two of the simpler poles, a blue one for Castiel and a green one for himself, and they make their way back up front.

“Gonna need bait, kid.”

“I know…have any crawlers?”

“What kin’ ?”

“Just earthworms, I think.”

The man grunts again and then plods into the back room attached to the small store, coming back with a coffee can that he sets down on the countertop, before fiddling with the antique looking register on the counter.

“…Comes to $35.79, n’ yer gonna have to leave an ID as colla-ter-al.”

“ _What?_ …For one day’s rental and some bait?” Dean asks, his jaw dropping and eyebrows flying up and together.

Castiel clears his throat and hands the man two twenties before Dean can protest, and the man opens the registry with a press of a button; the CHING it makes as it opens lingers in the air as Dean fumes silently and Castiel shifts his weight from foot to foot. The man’s gaze slides between the two silent teenagers, and he clears his throat.

“…Look, kid…s’no shame in letting yer _friend_ pay for yah once in’while.”

Dean’s eyes shoot up from where he’d been watching the dirt inside the coffee can squirm around, and when he locks eyes on the man in front of him, he gets it. The guy can tell that they’re together, can see it in the way they act with one another, Dean’s posture and facial expressions, Castiel’s quiet reactions.

With a crook of an eyebrow the man looks back, and there’s the barest twitch upward at the corner of his mouth. Dean almost breathes a sigh of relief at that. The man knew, and didn’t care.

“Have the poles back by sunset t’morrow…have fun, n’don’t stay out past dark….’ese woods not too safe when the sun goes down…Momo’s out there,” the man says, his eyes sparkling with humor, crinkles around the corners deepening as he smiles.

Castiel blinks.

_“Momo?”_

Dean rolls his eyes and scoffs.

“There’s no such thing, it’s just a stupid urban legend Cas, like bigfoot,” he says, looking at the man and shaking his head.

“…Whatever yah say kid…jus’ be careful. More n’one camper’s disappeared already this year…and that’s no urban legen’.”

It’s Dean’s turn to blink at that, and he swallows down the multitude of questions that he wanted to ask, that the hunter he was pushed him to.

“Alright…sundown tomorrow, got it. Thanks, uh…Clive…,” Dean replies, eyes flickering down to the man’s nametag that was sewn onto his shirt. Clive nods once, then picks his worn out paperback up off the counter, returning to the same reclined position he’d been in when they entered the shop. Dean ushers Castiel out the door and shudders as it creeks shut, jingling once more when it finally closes as they walk away.

“Creepy fucker,” he mutters.

Castiel looks up from the coffee can, which he’d barely managed to grab as Dean had been pushing him out the door. His lips thin out in what Dean was coming to call, in his head only, Castiel’s bitch face. It rivaled Sammy’s some days.

“Dean, the man wasn’t creepy…he was just.., um…,”

“Creepy? Creeptastic? Creepalicious with a side of creep sauce?!” Dean shouts as they tromp back into the forest the way they came, his arms out for emphasis, a fishing pole in each hand. Castiel rolls his eyes and smirks at his boyfriend, sighing gently.

“Whatever yah say, Dean,” he replies, sounding remarkably like Clive from just moments ago. Dean shoots a glare his way and bitch faces back, sticking his tongue out before starting to lead the way back through the forest toward the river he knew was there.

Along the way Dean hums songs that Castiel picks up, singing along in his gorgeous deep voice, which, despite the gravel, sounded heavenly to Dean’s ears. It was almost 4 by the time they make it to the river, and Castiel checks his phone to see if he had service to let Clara know where they were- but one glance showed no bars, and Dean’s cell phone wasn’t any better.

“Well, guess we’ll just have to hurry up and catch ourselves some dinner, and then find our way back before the sun goes down.”

“Dean, the sun will go down in two hour and 13 minutes. We need to hurry.”

Dean stops walking at that and turns to look at his boyfriend, eyebrows up in surprise.

“What, you can sense that or something?”

Castiel smiles wryly and tilts his head to one side as he stares at Dean in disbelief.

“I looked at an almanac, Dean.”

“Oh.”

They sit down and break out the worms, Dean teaching Castiel how to bait the hook, and snickering at the look on Castiel’s face when he realized what that entailed.

“I’ll do it for you this time Cas, but next time’s all you, alrigh’?”

Castiel nods and looks a little green, but by the time they get to casting, he’s back to his normal self, grinning over his shoulder as Dean teaches him how to let go at the right moment so the line will be free to go as the bait takes it into the river. Castiel feels warm and leanly muscled and just right under Dean’s hands, against his chest, and he’s reluctant to let go to go cast his own line, but he does when Castiel fidgets slightly, arching a brow and saying with a teasing tone “I think I got it now Dean.”

They sit down on a boulder near the water, back to back, and let the sounds of the forest be the only thing that breaks the silence for a while. Dean keeps an eye out, on alert since this morning after the strange things that he saw in the forest while Castiel was bird watching. He was even more tense after Clive’s warning, and even though the rational part of him knew the older man was most likely just teasing them, he couldn’t help but think ‘what if’.

His mental loop is broken only when Castiel shrieks his name, and he’s up on his feet like a shot, dropping his own pole to help Castiel- who had got a bite.

“Reel ‘em in Cas! Reel ‘em in!”

“I’m trying!”

Together they manage to reel in the line, and Castiel grins as he holds up his first catch of the day- an old hubcap.

By the time the sun starts setting, they’d caught two minnow sized fish, Castiel’s hubcap, a branch, and one fish worth actually bringing back. Dean sighs as he carefully unhooks it and sets it free, much to Castiel’s confusion.

“Dean, didn’t you want to eat that fish?”

Dean watches it swim away for a moment, then shrugs and reels his line back in all the way, starting to pack everything up for the trek back to the camp.

“Nah…probably not enough for everyone, it was kinda scrawny Cas.”

Castiel smiles gently and helps Dean pack up, backpack almost empty but for the now much lighter coffee can, their water bottle and wrappers from their lunch. Castiel takes the pack this time, and Dean handles the poles once again, and they set out down the small river bank toward their camp, Dean starting a round of ‘I’ve Never’ to pass the time.

“I’ve neverrrr….jumped out of an airplane.”

“Me neither.”

“Okay…well, your turn Cas.”

“Uh..okay…I’ve never…. failed a test.”

“…Duh…I’ve never…eaten tofu.”

“Mom makes it on Thursdays…it’s not too bad, if you can get past the squishiness.”

“Blech.”

“Yeah…pretty much. Um…I’ve never…uh…had intercourse.” He whispers, blushing.

Dean trips over a root and flushes bright red, clearing his throat and brushing off Castiel’s worried ‘Dean are you okay?!’ with a stuttering ‘Yeah-..Yeah fine Cas….’

After that, they walk in silence for a bit, both teenagers bright red as their minds dwelled on the same exact thing- sex.

By the time they make it back to the camp, it’s been dark for half an hour, and Castiel has over 30 mosquito bites. Dean sets their stuff down and helps Sam start the fire again, while Clara tuts over Castiel’s skin, the bites bright pink and already swelling slightly.

“See, this is why I told you to be back well before dark Castiel,” she scolds lightly.

Castiel sighs and nods, closing his eyes as she applies anti-itch cream to a bite on his forehead.

“I know Mama…I’m sorry, we tried.”

“I know you did Castiel, it’s alright….Sam and I went and bought hotdogs and buns…as well as all the fixings for smores.”

Dean perks up at that, and even Castiel has to smile, itchy or not. Who the hell didn’t love smores?

The fire doesn’t take long to light, Sam having bought a small bottle of lighter fluid and coals, and soon they have a roaring campfire, lighting up the small area they had claimed as their own in dancing orange and yellow light.

 

“So then, I said ‘That’s not what your Mom said last night dude’, and you can guess how well that went over.”

Clara gapes at Dean, but Castiel just grins, turning his stick over above the fire, meticulously roasting his hotdog, as Sam digs into his third, mouth full when he speaks.

“Went over better with that jock than it did with Dad, that’s for sure,” he says around his food, and Dean grimaces.

“Gross dude, masticate with your mouth closed, alrigh’?”

Dean blinks as the other three all freeze and turn to look at him, eyes wide.

“Masticate?” Sam repeats.

Dean shifts, uncomfortable under the sudden scrutiny.

“..Yeah, dude…Means t’chew…,” Dean mutters, yanking his own marshmallow out of the fire and blowing on it- one side charred black, the other still cold. He frowns at it and sighs.

“…I know what it means Dean!…That’s not-“

“We’re just wondering where you learned it, is all,” Castiel finishes, and Sam nods vigorously.

“…M’studying to take the SATs…,” Dean mumbles, tossing his marshmallow into the fire and watching it melt and bubble and hiss as it dissolves from the heat.

Castiel brightens, and Clara clasps her hands together in front of her chest.

“You are?”

“Yeah…god, why’s it such a big freakin’ deal?! Everyone has to take ‘em right?”

“Yes, Dean, but we didn’t think you would take them seriously,” Castiel says, and bumps his shoulder against Dean’s, throwing the other boy off balance on the log they were perched on. Dean scowls.

“A’course I’m takin’em seriously….You’re going t’college aren’t you Cas?”

Castiel nods slowly.

“…I think I’d like to be a doctor…perhaps a writer,” he murmurs. Dean nods.

“And so is Sammy.”

“Lawyer,” Sam pipes up, grinning at Dean, who can’t help but grin back.

“I think I wanna learn how to fix cars.”

“…Dean, you already know how to do that though,” Sam says, frowning slightly as he plucks a marshmallow out of the bag and pushes it onto his stick.

“I know how to fix the Impala, yeah…but not all cars. And I wanna know more, too…Like how to solder and use a blow torch, fix more’n just changing the oil and replacing timin’ belts you know?”

“You want to be a mechanic?”

“I think I’d be good at it Sammy.”

“…You would, Dean.” Sam says with a soft smile, his heart painful in his chest, happy that his brother was actually considering a life outside of his Father, outside of hunting.

“…So, you’re studying for the SATs because you want to go to college to be a mechanic?” Castiel asks, arching a brow. Dean nods and shrugs.

“Seems like the thing t’do, y’know?”

Castiel smiles and hands Dean his perfectly roasted marshmallow with a soft smile.

“I do. I’m proud of you, Dean.”

Dean flushes and mutters a soft ‘Shut up’, but inside feels warmer than he has in years. Not even the fire could reach that deep, inside him where he longed for approval, acceptance, love.

It had been years since he’d felt good enough, felt like someone was truly proud of him.

He frowns slightly as he thinks about their Father, the man who, in the two months he’d been gone away on a hunt, had managed to return Dean’s countless calls three times.

Three times.

Dean licks his lips and eats Castiel’s marshmallow with a full mouthed grin, teeth covered in sticky sweetness, Sammy laughing as Castiel flushes and looks aghast at Dean’s manners. Clara just tosses a marshmallow at them both, hitting both Dean and Castiel square in their foreheads.

They stay up until late into the night, and then cover the fire with water, the hissing sound and steam that comes up soothing as Dean curls up in his sleeping bag once more, another chaste kiss goodnight to Castiel not nearly enough to quell the ache between his legs…he’d been alone with Cas all day, but they’d been too busy having fun, talking, wandering around the woods, to even think about sex.

Now here he was, alone in his tent with only his hand for company- but his baby brother was three feet away and ew, yeah, Dean wasn’t that stupid or ballsy to try and pull that off.

He falls asleep to Sam’s light snoring in his ear, the clock on his phone blinking 11:47pm.

-

Dean wakes up to the sound of a zipper, and his name whispered in a hiss. He groans softly and sits up, rubbing at his eyes and yawning.

“Whassit Sammy?” He mutters, only to see his brother dead asleep beside him, thumb in his mouth, bangs askew over his forehead. He blinks and then looks at the entrance to the tent, where a dark figure squatted. The voice came out again, and this time Dean recognized it- Cas.

“What’s wrong Cas?” He whispers as he pulls on his boots and climbs out of his tent. Dean zippers the tent shut again, silent as he can, before turning to face his boyfriend.

“I need to pee,” Cas whispers, holding onto the battery powered lantern with one hand, gripping Dean’s sleeve with the other.

Dean rolls his eyes but takes Castiel’s hand, and together they wander away from the camp, just far enough that they could barely see the tents anymore.

“There, now go pee so we can go back t’bed…m’tired,” Dean whines, rubbing at his eyes and yawning again. Castiel sets the lantern down and turns it off, which gets Dean’s attention, just a split second before he’s shoved up against the tree behind him, and Castiel’s mouth is on his, hot and hungry. Dean moans low into the kiss, opening his mouth as Castiel slides his own tongue out, caressing Dean’s and then possessing him, diving in with a need that was normally Dean’s and Dean’s alone. Dean shivers in the chill night air, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s lean frame to drag the other boy even closer, feeling Castiel’s hard on pressing against his thigh through two layers of sweatpants and boxers. Dean gasps and grinds his hips forward, against Castiel, earning himself a matching gasp and a whimper.

 _“Dean,”_ Castiel pleads, his hands frantic as they move over Dean’s clothes, ruck up his shirt just to touch bare skin. Dean grits his teeth as Castiel kneels, kissing along Dean’s stomach to his sweat pants, hot breath moist over the layers of fabric as Castiel mouths along the length of Dean’s cock. Dean swallows hard and croaks out Castiel’s name once, twice, before the other stands back up.

 _“Fuck_ …d’you plan this?”

Castiel nods, kissing Dean again hard before pulling back, speaking between frantic kisses.

“Needed….you…c…couldn’t wait,…anymore..,” he whispers, and grinds his body up against Dean’s once more. Dean growls and turns then around, slamming Castiel up against the tree trunk and hoisting him up, legs wrapped around Dean’s waist as his hands come up to grip the back of Cas’ thighs, his ass, squeezing just to hear Cas whine.

“Please, Dean….N-need to….,” he moans, and Dean nods against the crook of his neck, sucking a mark there that he knew would get him in trouble tomorrow- but fuck it, it was worth it to hear Castiel keen at the pleasure pain explosion that careened through his body.

Dean grinds his cock against Castiel’s hard, lining them up just right that they could rut together, the barest movement friction divine for both of them. Dean was almost choking with how tight Castiel’s arms were around his neck, and Castiel’s back would be mottled with tiny bruises and cuts from the tree trunk, but neither of them cared- they were too caught up in the moment to think about anything but release.

Castiel whimpers against Dean’s mouth when the other teen moves back up, a bruise blooming up on Cas’ neck where the skin was still wet with saliva. Dean bites into the kiss, passion flooding over into desperation as his cock twitches in his sweats, leaks a small wet spot as it aches for attention.

“Dean,” Cas says again, and this time Dean obliges, reaching between them, fumbling as he presses Cas up against the tree trunk once more, to get both of their cocks out, free from the confines of their sleep clothes. Dean hisses when the night air kisses his blood thickened cock, the heated skin feeling the chill like ice. He quickly presses them together, brings his hand up and groans when Castiel grabs for it, licking the palm and his fingers, eyes locked on Dean’s the whole time.

“Jesus Cas,” Dean whispers, his green eyes flaring wide in the dark, surprised at Castiel’s daring. Cas just grins and guides Dean’s hand back down, around the both of them, Castiel’s own hand gripping around the other side. They move in tandem, rocking and fisting their cocks as one, the friction and heat building with each frantic stroke, the night air still and silent but for their combined panting.

Dean grit his teeth, knowing he would come in moments, and wanting Castiel to come first. He leans in and bites on the cord of Castiel’s shoulder, the muscle standing up taut as he furiously works his hand along with Dean’s. That does it; Castiel comes like he’s made for it, his body tensing as one long strand, a bow’s string pulled taut, and then plucked as he lets go, spilling in warm messy spurts over both of their hands. It knocks the wind out of them both, and Dean tumbles afterward with a broken cry muffled by the flesh in his mouth, shoving Castiel hard against the tree once more.

Castiel and Dean stand, just barely, shaking as the aftershocks of their orgasms roll over them in waves, ebbing away slowly, and bringing the world back to them both. Dean shudders and brings his head up to kiss Castiel, slow, gentle, licking away at the plush chapped lips that were reddened by his nipping and biting.

“So fucking beautiful baby,” he murmurs against Cas’ lips, marveling at the teenager he had in his arms, the gorgeous man that Castiel was becoming, each and every day older and wiser and even more attractive to Dean than before.

“I love you,” Castiel whispers, voice soft as he kisses Dean back. Dean kisses his reply into Cas’ mouth, lost in the moment, the simple intimacy of it all.

They part slowly, and clean themselves up as best they can, before turning to go back to the camp. Castiel pauses then, and flushes, tugging his hand out of Dean’s grasp.

“What’s up?”

“I uh….actually do have to pee, Dean.”

Dean sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Fine, go on…make it quick.”

Dean crosses his arms over his chest, and stands waiting, watches while Cas disappears around the trunk of the tree they’d just basically screwed against. He chuckles softly at the memory, but the laughter is cut short by a scrambling sound, something like a scuffle, and the barest yelp from the other side of the tree.

Dean is around the other side, Castiel’s name on his lips, but there’s nothing there.

No Castiel…no sign of him at all, not even pee on the tree. Dean stands stock still, the hair on the back of his neck raising slowly, as all the pieces of the last day, the signs he saw, fit together, the puzzle clicks into place.

“Dean…” He hears behind him a little bit away, and he whirls around- eyes wide and hands shaking as he quickly ducks down to pull the knife out of the inside of his boot. Standing back up, Dean tenses, ready for anything.

“Deannnn….” he hears again, and this time the voice is right on top of him, so similar to Castiel’s own that if it weren’t or the rasp that was just this side of too dry, he would have thought it was Cas. He turns around again, knife up and at the ready…but once again…there’s nothing there.

A smell invades his nostrils…dank earth and rotting flesh, something metallic, like fresh blo-…Dean’s heart stops in his chest when he FEELS it…right behind him this time. He doesn’t give the creature a chance to say his name, to tease him with Castiel’s voice, a pale mockery of the delicate balance of rough and heavenly that Castiel always carried; he spins around and stabs, blindly, but the thing just cackles, and that’s when Dean realizes how screwed he is.

Standing in front of him, pale skin so paper thin, ash grey and transparent that he could see it’s internal organs, heart beating rabbit fast in it’s sunken chest, was a creature he’d only read about until that moment.

It was easily 10 feet tall, and it was crouching sightly, knees bent like broken twigs, feet splayed out wide, yellow nails too long, dug in the dirt in front of Dean. Dean swallows hard as the wendigo cackles again, a sound like rusty screen doors shutting over and over, and wrenches the knife from his grasp. Dean makes a choke off sound and takes a step back, but the wendigo is there, using one obscenely large hand, fingers that remind Dean of snow crab legs, only pale and white and wrinkled, to shove him against the tree trunk so hard his head smacks into it with a sick sound, a crack and leaves his ears ringing.

“Sonofa-,” he wheezes, collapsing to the dirt floor, trying his hardest to breathe even though every breath in made him gag from the smell.

“Deeeeeaannn,” it hissed, then cackled again and grabbed one of Dean’s arms, pulling him up off the floor, up up up until he was dangling like a broken puppet, arm wrenched up so high the socket screamed at him, pain burning through him like fire.

“AHHHH!!!!”

“DDDDDEEEEEAANNNNNN,” it said again, and gnashed broken black and red teeth in front of his face, and this time Dean did vomit, puked and coughed and sputtered, as the Wendigo leaned in and smelled him like you would a delicious steak, a fresh cake out of the oven.

“Wha…WHAT DID YOU DO- AHHHH FUUUCK! WHAT DID YOU DO TO CAS YOU SONOFA BITCH!?” He screams at it in between yelps of pain as the thing shakes him like a ragdoll, arm popping out of it’s socket, leaning Dean gasping for air through the pain.

“Casssssss,” it hisses, then licks it’s purple licks, and Dean can’t handle it anymore. He roars, and hauls back, then slams his pointed fingers straight into one of it’s eyes. The Wendigo makes a sound like a kicked dog, then snarls and throws Dean. He sails through the air and then lands on the ground, tumbling over and over until he comes to rest when he slams into a furry wall.

A furry…wall?

Dean looks up, groaning in pain, and up…and up and up and up…The thing in front of him was covered in dense fur, algae or moss making the deep brown tinged with grey and green over it’s shoulders, the large face sunken, skull overly large and squashed, like an old pumpkin let to rot after Halloween. The thing looked down at Dean slowly, moving so slow Dean was sure he was seeing things, that the Wendigo had done some kind of damage to his head.

It’s yellow green eyes focused on Dean, and then…it smiled. Teeth almost as yellow as it’s eyes poked out from between thick brown lips, crooked and almost human like in their shape. It reached down with one fat hand which ended in talons almost sloth like, but sharp from Dean’s view, fingers the size of Dean’s forearm encircling his good arm and hauling him up with such ease it made Dean’s head swim. The other creature set him down though, on his feet, and it was then that Dean realized why the creature looked so familiar.

“Momo,” he croaks, and the creature tilts it’s shaggy head slowly, and then grins again before patting Dean’s head like he was a dog with the palm of it’s hand. Because of the size of it, the pat ends up being more jarring than reassuring, but Dean felt his fear lessen just slightly as the tall creature, as wide as a redwood, lumbered toward the spitting and hissing and howling Wendigo.

The Wendigo pauses where it was clawing at it’s face, shrieking in agony, black blood pouring from the eye socket that had once housed a grey blue eye, but no more thanks to Dean’s handiwork. It sniffs the air, and then whirls around to face Dean and the other creature, ‘Momo,’ Dean thinks, bewildered at the reality that this urban legend was actually real. The Wendigo cackles low and bows in half almost, skulking backwards, away from the lumbering bigfoot as the larger creature made its way, ever so slowly, toward the Wendigo.

Momo gets down on all fours, and suddenly Dean is reminded of a gorilla, with deep brown hair instead of black, and talons that were wickedly dangerous looking. Suddenly, there’s a flash of movement, and the Wendigo shrieks in pain again, one of it’s arms held in it’s grasp, Momo standing to one side with black tipped claws and a sneer on it’s face.

The roar that the bigfoot let out then rattled Dean’s bones, and the Wendigo all but shrunk to a quarter of it’s size, scuttling away through the underbrush as Dean stared with wide eyes, breathing hard at witnessing such an interaction.

The bigfoot like creature turns around then, and Dean’s fear ratchets back up.

“Please please please be an herbivore,” he whispers, as the large creature lumbers back toward him. It pauses halfway there though, and Dean can’t even breathe as he follows it’s gaze as it looks slowly up into the trees. Dean walks over as Momo begins climbing one, disappearing into the canopy, disguised by it’s fur and the foliage growing on it instantly.

 _“Shit,”_ he whispers, and stands still, until the situation comes back to him fully.

Wendigo.

Momo.

_Castiel._

His heart skips a beat in the worst way possible, and his chest tightens as he realizes what he hadn’t been able to handle moments before.

_The Wendigo had taken Castiel._


	12. Chapter 12

Dean’s world shifts then, the axis turning as everything seems to crumple in on itself, the foundation he’d come to rely on so easily in the last two months gone. Castiel. His Castiel. Dean feels something in his chest, a white hot clenching pain, and as he sinks do his knees, he wonders manically if this is what asthma feels like.

By now, the screams and howls and cries have woken Sam and Clara, who are running toward Dean, flashlights bouncing in his periphery. Dean can’t move, frozen on the spot, the shock of what had just happened and the pain he was in throbbing through his head in a roar like listening to a seashell, all consuming and powerful.

“Dean!” Sam yells, skidding to a halt and falling to his knees beside his older brother. Sam grabs Dean by his shoulders and shakes him, hard, but Dean flops like a ragdoll, head snapping back to look up into the canopy of the trees, where Momo had disappeared.

“Dean?! Dean, what the hell happen- oh my GOD, honey you’re bleeding,” Clara gasps, touching Dean’s face tentatively, before she too freezes, fear like ice sliding up her spine.

“Dean,” she whispers urgently, “Where’s Castiel?”

The name is what finally breaks through to Dean, and the sound he makes in that moment stills the world, a haunted broken sob that wrenches itself out of his throat.

“CAS-“

Sam and Clara are startled, and they dart looks at each other before touching Dean again, as the teenager bends in half, hands clawing fistfuls of dirt, shoulders curled up toward his face.

“CAS!!!”

There’s a rustle above, and then a small, deep grunt. Sam and Clara whip their heads up just in time to see a dark figure moving down, something pale and lifeless dangling from its arm like a broken toy.

“Oh my god…w..what the fuck is that?!” Clara hisses, standing up shakily. Sam rockets to his feet, knife in hand from his boot, into a fighting stance instantly, just like he’d been taught his entire life.

“Momo,” he whispers, eyes flicking between the creature that was still climbing down the redwood, and Clara.

“What?!” She hisses back at him, and Sam’s eyes narrow as he takes in the shaggy creature, who was almost to the forest floor. He could recognize the limp bundle hanging over the bigfoot’s arm now. Castiel. Broken and bleeding and obviously unconscious, but Castiel all the same.

“It’s an urban legend, like bigfoot. Or, I thought it was….,” Sam murmurs, as the creature steps down, stumbling slightly, it’s huge body making a sound loud enough to catch Dean’s attention. He looks up, and then does a double take as Momo makes a sad cooing sound, and carefully places Castiel’s limp body on the ground. Dean is scrambling the fifteen feet between himself and the creature in the next second, ignoring Sam’s cry of fear and Clara’s shriek.

“DEAN!”

“NO!”

Momo frowns, a low growl coming up out of his throat at the loud sounds, annoying sounds, but he doesn’t move, only startling slightly when Dean is suddenly in front of him, hands frantic as they move over Castiel’s body.

“Cas? Cas, buddy, c’mon man…d..don’t do this to me baby, c’mon, wake up!” Dean cries, shaking his friend carefully, but there’s no response. Castiel looks like a baby bird that’s fallen out of its nest, lifeless, limbs twisted at odd angles, ragged claw marks along his side arching up and over his stomach. Dean feels bile coming up his throat when he holds his hand under Castiel’s nose, and feels no breath coming out.

“No..nono no no no no NO!” He babbles, eyes wide and glittering with tears, and his hands waver, before he finally moves, spurred into action by a singular thought.

‘I can’t lose him again’

Clara and Sam watch, frozen by the strangeness of the creature that hovers, almost protective, over Dean while the teenager starts in on CPR, breathing for Castiel because Castiel isn’t, working his heart, because Castiel’s heart had ceased beating. There’s a tense moment, almost infinite, where the only sounds are Dean breathing and counting out his movements, the compressions on Castiel’s chest a dull sound beneath the beats of counting.

“Breathe…breathe you sonofabitch, I’m not done with you yet!” Dean growls, and slams a fist against Castiel’s chest, startling back with a shocked yelp when the boy bolts upright, taking one huge sharp inhale, and then coughing violently.

“Cas?” Dean asks softly, his voice wavering as he crouches there, hands hovering just over his best friend’s form. Castiel looks up, scratches on his face bleeding slowly, but his eyes are just as bright as ever when he smiles and croaks out Dean’s name.

“Dean…”

Dean launches himself at his friend, and then lets out a pained cry when his arm won’t move, still popped out of its socket. Castiel winces at Dean’s touch, his own body bruised and broken in numerous ways, ways he has yet to count. A low happy murmur above them makes the pair freeze, and look up, up, up, into the face of their savior.

Momo.

Bigfoot.

The supposed urban legend.

“…Jesus Christ, Clive was right,” Dean whispers, and Castiel can’t help his shocked laugh, the sound of which startles the creature. Momo takes a step backwards, mumbling and grunting, and then another, before turning away and walking slowly toward the tree line, to disappear as easily as he had come into their lives. Dean and Castiel just watch him go, only looking up when they’re both touched, Sam and Clara finally pulled out of their own frozen state as the creature moved away. The hissed words that come next are a jumble, and Dean doesn’t even try to make them out, merely focusing on staring at his best friend and lover, who he had been seconds away from losing once again. This time forever. Castiel holds his hand over the one Dean has cupped to his cheek, leaning into the touch and ignoring his Mother and Sam’s squawking questions.

There would be time for that later.

~

The camping trip was cut short, both Dean and Castiel needing medical attention, they packed up everything in a hurry, and were on the road to the nearest hospital within twenty minutes. Sam and Dean had managed to get his arm back in its socket at the campsite though, the pain of which made him cuss up a storm, and for once Clara didn’t scold him for it. He’d then helped Castiel, knowing that if his broken bones weren’t set right, with his accelerated healing, the Doctors would probably have to re-break them at the hospital. The sound of Castiel’s screams in the backseat of the car as Clara sped along the highway was something she could have gone a lifetime without, but she knew her son, and she knew Dean. It was something that had to be done.

They arrive at the county hospital forty minutes after the creature had disappeared into the woods, leaving all four of them with more questions than answers, and Clara parks before ushering the three teenagers inside to be seen. Dean gets a sling for his arm and a shot of morphine, Sam gets cuts on his palms looked at, and Castiel gets 20 stitches, and a cast on one wrist. Considering Dean had set three bones, and Castiel had started out with seven cuts Dean was sure would need stitches, Cas was doing okay.

Clara pays the hospital bill and then the four climb sleepily back into the station wagon. They head out, just down the road to a nearby motel that an RN at the hospital had told them about, and they rent two rooms. This time, Castiel and Dean get their own room, and Clara and Sam share one with two single beds.

“Boys, I know I don’t have to lecture you about safe sex-“

“Mama!” Castiel hisses, aghast at his Mother. Dean merely snorts and shakes his head, so tired he’s barely standing.

“Clara…even if I wanted to, I couldn’t right now. M’so tired m’gonna pass out if we stan’ here any longer,” he mumbles, yawning as he shoves the key in the lock and kicks the door open, walking inside with a murmured ‘nigh’ back over his shoulder. Castiel follows Dean inside and shuts the door, waving goodnight to Sam and his Mother. Clara turns to look at Sam, and clears her throat before pointing at him.

“Sam.”

“Uh…yeah?”

“You n’ me…we’re having a talk.”

“What…now?”

“YES, now.”

She leads the way into their adjoining room, and for the next two hours, Sam details everything, not leaving a single detail out of their lives- from everything he’s ever been told by his Dad and Dean, and everything he could remember himself; Sam tells Clara about the demon, and hunting, moving cross country so many times he’s lost count, and Dean’s ever faithful nature even though Sam doesn’t think their Father deserves it. He even tells her about Jo and Ellen, and what happened with Ellen’s husband. At the end of it, Sam’s cried his eyes red and spoken so long and so furious that his voice is cracking, and it’s not because of puberty this time. Clara ends up holding him, and Sam falls asleep curled up next to a warm body, the only thought in his mind that this must be what home feels like.

Castiel waits until Dean is done in the bathroom before he showers, needing help to throw a plastic bag on over the small cast on his left arm. They collapse into bed together after that, both sprawled out for a long quiet moment, before Castiel curls over on his side to face Dean. He waits silently until his eyes adjust to the dim flickering vacancy sign from outside, and he can see Dean’s profile, strong nose and plump lips.

“Dean?”

“M’yeah Cas?” Dean replies, voice thick.

“…Thank you, for saving me…,” he whispers, reaching out to place a hand on Dean’s chest, over the steady thud thud of his heart.

“…I din’t baby…was Momo,” he says softly, but slides a hand up and over Castiel’s own, squeezing gently. Castiel is quiet for a beat, before he speaks again.

“You’re gonna tell me what that…that thing was, right?”

Dean swallows hard, not wanting to bring Castiel into this world, where every shadow was suspect, and every noise could bring you harm.

“…Yeah…yeah Cas, t’morrow?”

Castiel nods as he scoots a little closer, carefully bringing one leg up and over Dean’s, as close as he could get without being on top of the other boy.

“…’kay,” Cas murmurs, and Dean feels his boyfriend’s body relax, melt against his side. It’s not long before Dean falls asleep too, the pair of them dead to the world until morning.

~

The morning brings with it new aches and pains for Dean, blooming bruises in a meriad of blues and purples and reds. For Castiel though, it brings almost healed cuts, and bruises that are faded to yellow and brown, as if they’d been there for weeks, not hours. Once again, Dean is astonished and in awe of his boyfriend.

“I just, jesus Cas, that’s amazing,” he whispers, fingers coasting slowly over Castiel’s pale skin, pausing at each tiny cut or bruise that marred the delicate surface. Castiel shivers, and bites his lower lip when he feels heat pool in his belly at Dean’s touch.

“Dean?” Castiel whispers, and Dean sits up, crawling back up the mattress to carefully lay beside Cas again.

“What’s up Cas?”

“…Are you gonna tell me what that thing was last night?…Both of them?”

Dean’s jaw clenches, and he nods after a long moment of silence.

“Yeah…It uh…it’s a long story, Cas.”

“Well, I’m listening.”

Dean sighs. “Alright…you remember the fire that killed my Mom? It wasn’t the fire that killed her, actually. It was what started the fire…,” Dean says softly, and Castiel reaches out to hold his hand, and Dean winds his way through the story, telling his side of the same story that, unbeknownst to him, Sam had told just last night to Clara, on the other side of the wall.

Castiel is an attentive listener, and curious, asking questions about every other thing. Dean finds that although he would normally be annoyed, because it’s Cas he can’t help but find the constant questions endearing. Castiel even wants to know what monsters and myths are actually real, and how to kill them. Dean frowns, boggling at his boyfriend.

“Dude, why would you want to have like, a list of these things?”

Cas rolls his eyes and sits up, huffing at Dean.

“Because…if I’m going to be with you, and we’re going to be hunters, I’ll need to know this stuff, right? I don’t want to be a burden to you Dean. I want to know what you do.”

Dean blinks, and something inside him he hadn’t realized he was holding onto drops away, and he shakes his head.

“No, Cas…no.”

“What…Dean, what?”

“I don’t want you hunting.”

Castiel bristles at that, and starts arguing with Dean.

“Dean Winchester, I’ll have you know I’m JUST as capable of you! Sure, you’ve had more trainnmmhhh!-“

Dean shuts him up with a kiss, and it works remarkably well, until he pulls away to speak again.

“-..t..training…but I’m a fast learner! I’d-“

“CAS! Dude…t..this isn’t about me not wantin’ you t’ hunt WITH me. If anything, I’d love that, man…I would…But this isn’t about that. This is about me not wantin’ US t’hunt. I don’t-“ he pauses and takes a deep breath, then cups Castiel’s face in his hands, staring into eyes so blue that Dean got lost in them, time and again.

“…This is about me wanting us t’have a diff’rent life than the one m’Dad gave me n’Sammy. I don’t wanna spend the rest of my life huntin’ things, movin’ from town t’town and never havin’ a real HOME. I wanna….I want t’come home to you at the end of t’day, Cas. To our home, from our normal, boring ev’ry day jobs. I want a LIFE with you, someday…and I don’t want huntin’ t’be it.” Dean finishes softly, his voice trailing off as he recognizes that he’s just said out loud, for the first time, what Sam’s been railing about since he could speak his own mind.

And it was true. Dean wanted a life outside of hunting. He wanted to live with Castiel, in some two story, blue and white house, with a white picket fence and a tree house in the back yard, and kids toys strewn across the lawn.

He wanted it so badly he could taste it, and looking into Castiel’s watering eyes, he knew that Cas wanted that too. Castiel kisses him then, and although it’s bruising and rough and just this side of painful with his injuries, neither breaks it until there’s a knock on the door, and Clara’s voice speaks out.

“Hope you boys are decent in there, it’s time to get heading home…we’re going to stop at a diner on the way out, be ready in fifteen alright?”

“Y-yeah Momma!” Cas yells, and they wait until they hear her footsteps fade away, before they tumble into one another, making the most of the fifteen minutes they had alone, celebrating the fact that they’d found their futures in one another with heated kisses and gentle touches.

They end up needing twenty five minutes, but Sam is the only one who bitches about it.

~

The ride home is quieter than the ride to the forest had been, but somehow more peaceful. Even though a world of terrifying creatures had been opened up to Clara and Castiel that they hadn’t known about before, there was a sense of protection and safety within the confines of the station wagon. They take a different route home, and when they get there Clara sets about making apple pie, from scratch, and the boys sit at the kitchen table to keep her company while they do their homework. It’s late Sunday night, and, although they had school the next day, Clara decides that the Winchesters would be staying the night.

“I’m sorry Sam, you’ll have to sleep on the couch,” she says with a frown, embarrassed to not have another place for him to sleep. Sam shrugs, smiles up at her.

“I’m just happy we get to stay, Clara.”

The sentiment is unanimous, and as Clara looks around her warm, cozy kitchen, filled with laughter and bickering, smiling faces and the smell of baking apple pie, she wonders how it came to this; that her house didn’t feel like home anymore without Sam and Dean Winchester sitting beside her and Castiel.

The house is quiet that night once everyone is tucked into bed, and Dean is surprised when all Clara does is slyly slip him a foil packet, winking as she walks away from him. It’s a condom, of course, and he drops it with a small sound of surprise. Castiel sees it, and flushes as well, pausing in stripping off his shirt to stoop and gingerly pick it up.

“U…Ultra-thin..,” he stutters, and looks up from the small square to Dean, who was staring at it with wide eyes, before he grins and shrugs.

“Well…you..uh…you wanna?” he asks, and Castiel swallows hard, before slowly shaking his head.

“Oh thank god,” Dean sighs, and Castiel lets out a surprised laugh, before tugging Dean toward the bed, the condom set on the bedside table and forgotten, in favor of just getting naked and lying together. They trace small patterns on one another’s skin, idle as they fall asleep, side by side, curled up like two parentheses that fit so perfectly it’s hard to tell where one begins and the other ends.

Dean doesn’t dream of fire that night. Instead he dreams of light; it’s pure and white, and fills his entire being with a sense of hope he’d never known before. There’s sounds all around him like glass tinkling, wind chimes and surf hitting the shore, raw and powerful, but it only seems to make the feeling stronger, and Dean sleeps soundly through the night. He doesn’t share his dream with Castiel in the morning, and Castiel doesn’t tell Dean about his dream, and speaking to the angels once more.


	13. Chapter 13

The trip back to Lawrence was thankfully uneventful, relatively speaking. Castiel and Dean wrapped up in each other in the back seat once more, their own world cocooned in the 4 foot by 3 foot space they occupied. Sam studiously ignored them after making only a few retching sounds, and spent the drive talking with Clara about anything and everything that crossed his mind. By the time they got back to Lawrence, Sam knew the answer to almost every question that he’d asked her (So why is the sky really blue? What do you call a group of bats? How long did WWII last? When was the last time you had this car detailed?) and many more. Clara was impressed both by Sam’s curiosity, and by Dean’s level of patience, which she had underestimated until the moment when Sam asked what a Cleveland steamer was. Clara had nearly wrecked the car at that, and that remained the one question that she didn't answer the entire way home.

It was dark when they pulled the station wagon off the street and onto the gravel drive of the house that Sam and Dean had come to think of as home, but not so dark that they missed the pick up truck in the driveway. The truck was parked in the driveway, behind the Impala, and it was then that Dean knew that he and Sam were both in deep, deep shit. He hadn’t even bothered to leave a note telling John where they were going because as far as he was concerned, John wasn’t going to be back any time soon. It was just fate’s quirky, bitchy sense of humor that he was back now, right when Dean was settling in to the fact that he was gone.

Dean’s heart clenched and he felt his stomach turn over inside of him at the realization that their Father had come home, and they had been somewhere without any phone service all weekend.

They were both so...so very dead.

~

John didn’t recognize the station wagon that pulled into the driveway, nor the woman who was behind the wheel. He did, however, recognize his youngest son in the front seat, and yup, that was Dean climbing out of the back seat, already looking guiltier than the time he’d shaved Sam’s hair half off while the kid had been sleeping. It wasn’t any wonder why Sam kept his hair longer than he should from then on...but now wasn’t the time to reminisce about the times when his boys obeyed him and stayed home, where they were safe and sound, rather than going off, gallivanting around with strangers.

He pulled the front door open and then slamed through the screen, already furious and ready to lay a verbal beat down on his eldest son, when the woman spoke up. Her voice was pleasantly warm, friendly, and the smile that came to her face seemed to light her tired features up, making her appear 5 years younger.

“…Time has not been kind to your Father boys,” Clara remarked sadly. She turned off the car and stepped out, taking in John’s fisted hands held stiffly at his sides without batting an eye.

“Who the hell are you and why the hell do you have my boys in your car?!” John bellowed, pointing at the car and then at Clara. Clara merely arched an eyebrow, and then chuckled.

“Nice to see you too John. I’d ask how you were, but I have a feeling you’re more interested in our story at the moment.”

Something flickered over the man’s face then, and a look of astonishment that Sam and Dean had rarely seen came to their father’s face.

“Clara?” He whispered. She grinned.

“You better believe it.”

The smile that split John’s face startled Dean and made Sam’s jaw drop open in surprise. They had never, ever seen their Father smile that easily or that quickly for someone, not even Bobby.

“Oh my god woman come here,” he said, wrapping his arms around Clara when they met in the middle of the patchy, burnt yellow yard, hugging each other tight and rocking back and forth.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” he whispered as he pulled away, eyes watering slightly with unbidden memories of happier times; of Clara and Mary together, watching their boys grow up and grow together.

Clara slapped his arm and grinned, tilting her head to the side slightly.

“Of course it is. And that? That’s Castiel,” she said, thumbing over her shoulder to indicate the dark haired boy who was standing beside Dean, as the trio of boys leaned against the station wagon, all astonished at what was going on in front of them. John’s eyebrows arched up like they had a life of their own, and he let out a stunned laugh.

“No shit? Well…I’ll be damned,” he said, a slow smile coming to his lips.

Castiel flushed under John’s stare and looked down at his feet, as both John and Clara laughed.

“Well, come inside, and explain t’me why you’ve got my boys with you, would you Clara?”

“Sure John,” She chuckled, shaking her head as she turned to look over her shoulder at the boys. “ so long as you can explain to me where you’ve been the last few months? I’ve been looking after your boys-”

“ _Clara,_  we were doing fine-”

“Dean, you hush now, I’m talking to your Father,” Clara said, barely looking over her shoulder at the teenager, who slumped slightly and grumbled as he looked back at Cas and Sam, who were grinning ear to ear smiles at him. Jerks.

“...As I was saying, I’ve been looking after your boys since you left John. What the hell has kept you away for so long?”

John had the decency to flush, and he shrugged slightly.

“Work.”

Clara arched one incredulous eyebrow at him, and then gestured with a careless wave of her hand.

  “Boys, bring all the gear inside. Your Father and I need to have a talk.”

They moaned in unison, but straightened up immediately when John shot them a look over his shoulder as well, one that the Winchester boys knew immediately as John’s ‘you’re trying my patience’ look.

They moved quickly after that, working as one. Before long everything was out of the worn out car and piled in the front room, against the wall. The second they shut the door, Clara was on John, her tone biting and her friendly demeanor not only gone, but replaced with an acidic vitriol that rivaled Sam’s best bitch face.

 “John, I don’t know what you’ve been doing, but I’m betting when you say work, what you really mean is running off to God knows where to hunt god knows what-”

“What?” John’s expression shifted, going from curious and cautious to furious and paranoid in a split second. His hands snatched Clara by her upper arms, eyes searching hers as he hissed at her. _“How the hell do you know about that?!”_

Clara winced at the rough treatment, but didn’t look away from John’s burning gaze.

“Because I took your boys, and my Castiel, on a road trip to Mark Twain forest. We encountered not one, but TWO supernatural creatures there and one of them practically killed Castiel. That would be why Dean is all banged up, but you didn’t really notice that, did you?”

John let her go then, flinching back from Clara’s snapped words as if she’d actually physically hit him, the look on his face a strange contortion of guilt and anger.

“You had no right to take my boys on some trip with you, Clara.  _NO RIGHT_.”

Clara snorted at that, crossing her arms over her chest.

“ _Oh_ , save it John. You left your boys here to fend for themselves, and while Sam’s been excelling at every single class, left and right, he’s been as miserable as Dean’s been. They just haven’t said anything about it. They _miss you_ , you moron,” she said, the last words verging on fond, and her expression flickered and then shifted, and Clara reached out to squeeze John’s forearm reassuringly.

“John...your boys are great boys. What could possibly be more important than them?”

The look of guilt on his face increased, only to be abruptly replaced with a shuttered expression, cold and tight.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

Clara’s face shut down as well, mouth pressed into a thin line.

“No, you don’t,” she snapped.

John seemed to have caught a second wind on his anger then, and gestured at the station wagon parked in the driveway.

“You need to leave, Clara. I won’t have you here, questioning my parenting.”

“What parenting?” she replied airily, and that’s when all hell broke loose. Dean came storming out of the kitchen, snarling over his shoulder at a man who walked out after him, growling right back.

“I don’t have to listen to you Gordon, you’re not my fucking Father!”

“ _Dean!_  Language!” John ordered, and Dean went rigid and his mouth snapped shut.

“Yeah, Dean, watch your mouth,” Gordon parroted, the smirk on his face something that was ugly, directed at someone less than half his age.

“Gordon, I think it’s time you leave..,” John said slowly, narrowing his eyes at his friend, before turning his head to look at Clara.

“You too. I don’t want to see you back here. You’re not welcome here, Clara.”

Clara hesitated for a moment, then held her head up a little higher, which looked a little ridiculous considering she was more than six inches shorter than John.

“If that’s what you want, John,” she replied smoothly.

John nodded once. “It is.”

Clara pursed her lips for a second, then nodded in return, and looked toward the kitchen door, where Castiel and Sam were hanging in the doorway, eyes wide and mouths open in twin looks of shock.

“Castiel, we’re leaving,” she said gently, and gestured for Castiel to follow her out the front door to their car. Cas looked from his Mother to Dean and back again, torn between following his Mother as he’d been asked, and staying there, with Dean. Like he wanted to.

“Momma...”

Clara paused with a hand doorknob, and looked over at her son, then to John.

“...Does this exile include my son?” she asked, her expression almost hopeful. John sighed, turned to look at his son. Dean’s expression was something that John had only seen a handful of times in his life; every time Dean had looked this utterly terrified was when Sam had been in mortal danger. He felt his chest tighten, and he couldn’t imagine being the reason for that look. He shook his head and turned back to Clara.

“No...no, your son is welcome...but you’re-”

“Yeah, yeah I know...exiled, banished, not welcome, etc. etc.....I’ll come pick you up later Castiel,” she said, a smile on her face again. There’s a crack in it somehow, and Castiel felt bad for staying instead of going with his Mother, shoulders slumping  as he watches her walk out the front door. He didn’t follow though, as there was a hand on his shoulder in the next moment, and he looked over at Dean, who’s expression was as grim as Castiel was feeling.

Clara climbed into her car and waved goodbye, telling them all to be good. With a creak and a sputter, the car started when she turned it over, and soon the squeak of a too tight fan belt was fading in the distance.

“...Do you really want me gone too?” Gordon said, and it’s not so much a question as just a confirmation, which John provided in the form of a stiff nod. Gordon sighed and narrowed his eyes at John.

“You be careful John....it’s not a toy...and we’re going to have to give it back, sooner or later.”

Dean frowned at the words, not understanding, but by the way his Dad’s jaw tightened, he knew something was up. Gordon left in a plume of exhaust, sending Sam into a coughing fit while Dean rolled his eyes. John ordered everyone inside, and while he called up for a pizza, Dean, Sam and Castiel wandered upstairs and into Dean’s room to talk.

~

“What the hell was that?” Sam asked, eyes wide as he looked from Dean to Cas and back again. Dean shrugged noncommittally.

“Dunno.”

“Bullshit, Dean, you know what that was! What was Gordon talking about? And what the hell was that with Clara?!” he hissed. Dean frowned before speaking again, slowly, as if Sam was an idiot and just didn’t get it the first time around.

“Dun. No. Sammy.”

Sam bitch faced at him in a most epic fashion and sighed, which made Castiel snort, before he too sighed and slumped against Dean, head on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

"....Guys, I don't know what that was," Dean murmured softly after a moment of silence. "I don't know why the hell Dad took what Clara said so personally. I think, no, I know he doesn't like anyone knowing about us huntin', but I always thought that was because he didn't want to put anyone else in danger by 'em knowing about that world."

Sam snorted.

"You _seriously_ think that Dad cares about anyone else?"

Dean looked both shocked and offended at Sam's words, and glared at his brother after he managed to shut his mouth with a snap.

" _Sammy!_ Don't say that. Dad's a good man, dude, we hunt things and save people. That's the family business, Sammy. Has been since Mom died, you know that."

Sam crossed his arms over his chest after brushing his hair out of his face.

"Yeah? But we didn't start doing this until Mom died though. And it's always about the hunt, Dean, about the yellow eyed demon. It's never really about the people. Dad doesn't stick around long enough in any one place to make sure that everyone's really okay-" Sam sighed and shook his head sadly, eyes carrying a weight that someone who wasn't even 14 yet shouldn't be carrying. "Dad doesn't care about people Dean...he cares about revenge."

Dean was quiet then, because as much as he wanted to deny it, because as cruel as Sam's words were...they were the truth.

And Dean had just come to accept it; that after an entire childhood of working side by side with his Father, under the guise of avenging their Mother and saving people from the evil in the world, that his Father was blinded to everything but vengeance. And the truth of it made Dean feel sick to his stomach.


End file.
